


Less than Perfect

by Surfingpichu



Category: Final Fantasy I
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Blood, Gen, Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2503793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surfingpichu/pseuds/Surfingpichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A novelization of Final Fantasy 1 told from the perspective of some Not-So-Light Warriors. Will they be able to overcome the trials and tribulations that await them, or will they perish to the harsh world that awaits them? And will they ever manage to work together for long enough to save the world? Find out within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: End of One Adventure, Beginning of another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings AO3 community! Surfingpichu here, and for anyone who recognizes this fic from FF.net welcome back! I have finally decided to get around to revising some of my old chapters from this fanfiction and have decided to upload them here. For anyone new, this fic was originally started in 2006 and has been an ongoing project of mine for many years. It's not finished, and I don't know when it will be finished, but I have been wanting to revise some of the old chapters for a while now and I felt that here was the place to do it.
> 
> For anyone who has already read this there will be a lot of updates, mainly to the writing style and there might end up being some new content??? Not sure on that one yet but keep your eyes open for it. For new readers, there is a lot of adventure, trials and tribulations to go through. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Trigger warning:  
> I figured that I should put here as well as in the tags that there is some gore that comes up in later chapters. The first chapter is pretty tame but later on the descriptions do get a little graphic, so if you're not into squick with your fic you might want to stick.... yourself out of this one in some of the later chapters. I'll give another warning when those chapters come up, but be warned there will eventually be a little bit of torture, and some mutilation, stabbings and eye gore. Again I'll issue another warning when it comes up so you kids can stay safe and happy.

_**  
**_

 

Tall statues and monuments adorned the walls of the huge temple. The gray-blue slate floor, brushed with only a thin coat of dust, and was perfect in design. The walls, windows, pillars, all perfect, flawless, untampered with, and untouched. Not a cobweb hung from the high ceilings, nor a chip was taken from the delicate floors.  
  
A young red wizard gazed upon these perfect features and sighed. It was a shame a beautiful place like this would one day become the musty, broken ruins that he and his comrades knew as the Temple of Fiends.(What went wrong?) Shaking his head he looked to his comrades, who were still peacefully asleep.  
  
A red haired knight lay with his back rested against a pillar, his sword, the Excalibur, lay draped across his chest, atop his diamond encrusted armor. I wonder how he sleeps in that armor. He mused.  
Smirking, he turned his attention to another figure. This was a blond girl, dressed all in white, curled up into a little ball on the floor. Her own armor laid next to her, accompanied by a huge mallet. She was a Wizard, like himself, only she had mastered only the White Magics, while he had taken to both Black and White.  
  
The last of his comrades was resting up against the wall with his head cradled on his chest and his royal blue hood pulled over his head. He too had taken his armor off for the night, and laid it next to his golden staff, "The Judgment Staff" as he called it. He was, yet another Wizard, and a powerful one at that, only concerning himself with the offensive type, black magics.  
  
The four had known each other for a long time, almost all their lives, and each had a special talent of his or her own. That, and their possession of four,huge, almost identical crystals, made them the first to be chosen as the Warriors of Light when the need for them came. (They had been powerful enough. They had everything they needed.) And after a year of hard work, the only task left for them that remained, was to kill the cause of all the chaos that had begun. In fact, the creature that they had to kill to bring balance to Gaia once again was called Chaos. The wizard smirked and turned to his friends.  
  
"Rise and shine Warriors of Light." He called to his comrades, "The wrath of Chaos waits for no man."  
  
Slowly, the three other Light Warriors, pried themselves from sleep, groaning and rubbing their eyes.  
  
"Can it wait for a woman?" Asked the White Wizard. She yawned heavily and rubbed her eyes.  
  
"Sorry." The Red Wizard smiled in a half apology, "But we have to get to this battle. If we wait too much longer we'll be back in present day Gaia."  
  
The Black Wizard had already stood up and begun to put on his armor. "The sooner we get this battle over with the sooner I can get a full night's sleep" He grumbled. "I hate the wilderness so much sometimes..."  
  
"You hate everything sometimes." The Knight commented, giving the hooded wizard a playful shove, causing him to tumble over. The two were friends, but sometimes the knight underestimated his own strength. "Oops.." He apologized.  
  
"Yeah.. and sometimes I really hate you." The Black Wizard muttered, getting to his feet, but he smirked at the knight and gave him a playful poke with his staff.( They were so energetic. So powerful.)  
  
"Come on. Before present day comes again." The Red Wizard said, motioning to the door that led to where Chaos should have been.  
  
The four approached the door, confidently at first, but as the door neared, each became less and less sure of himself.  
  
"Uhh.. Ladies first." The Knight said, motioning to the door.  
  
The White Wizard shot him a glare. "Some knight you turned out to be." She mumbled, rolling her eyes at him.  
  
"I didn't mean you." The Knight said, looking at the Black Wizard. He picked up on the Knight's little joke immediately.  
  
"Very funny..." He muttered, and slowly,and he pushed the door open. (They may have acted childish, but they weren't fools in combat)  
A groan resembling that of a dying animal was emitted from the door as it opened, and slowly the four, led by the black wizard, tiptoed into the room. It was as silent as death. No-one dared to move, or breathe a word. The room was sparsely lit, and the end of it was shrouded in shadows darker than the night itself. Slowly the Black Wizard stepped further into the room until at last a figure emerged from the darkness. However, that figure wasn't Chaos. The Light Warriors had never seen Chaos themselves, but they did know that that wasn't him. The figure before him wore white-blue armor, with a matching helmet that covered his face completely.(Maybe they thought too highly of themselves) Two long spike-like horns protruded from the helmet, and helped to make his figure more menacing, and a cape was draped down his back. Immediately each of the Warriors realized who that were looking at.  
  
"Garland..." The Red Wizard breathed, staring in complete awe at the figure before him.  
  
"H-how did you..." The Knight started, but his voice caught in his throat. He was shaking violently, and his eyes were wide, and displayed in them was something his comrades had never seen in him before, fear.  
  
Garland them gave a small harsh chuckle. "So, you do remember me.." He said. His voice smooth, and leathery, unlike it had been the first time they'd met, what seemed like a lifetime ago, on the bottom floor of the Chaos Temple, fighting over the life of a young princess.(Maybe they relied on each other too much) Now the stakes were higher, and he was at the top of his game. "I was once known as a knight of Corneria."  
  
The dark knight now began to advance on them, forcing them to back away from him.  
  
"Two-Thousand years from now... you killed me." He said with a cruel chuckle. "Garland... thats what I was called. Thats the name you knew me by"  
  
From under his blue-white helm, a twisted smile appeared on his face.  
  
"Oh you did kill me then." He said in almost a whisper, but just loud enough so that the four could hear him.  
  
Now the Red Wizard was getting nervous. He could feel his heart racing and his palms sweating. Garland had gone mad, and now he and his comrades were at the mercy of a madman. The very notion disturbed him greatly.  
  
"But the four great forces saved me by sending me back through time." Garland pressed on, his voice now rising, as if he was getting to the climax of a great story. "And once here, I sent the four fiends into the future."  
  
The Red Wizard heard the White Wizard only just stifle a gasp.(Maybe they trusted each other too much.). Not that she was surprised that he'd sent them back, but that she'd come to the realization that all four Warriors had just grasped. Everything they'd done was in vain.  
  
"There, they shall once again use the four great forces to send me into the past." Garland finished, but his story could have gone without saying.(Or maybe not enough) Each of the Warriors knew what he was going to say. Garland turned in a gust, and took a few steps back, but the Warriors stayed pressed against the slate-brick wall. "In Two-Thousand years, I will remember none of this."  
  
None of the four Warriors dared to move, speak or breathe, and for a second, all was still and quiet. But suddenly there came an unexpected, abrupt flash of light, causing each of the Warriors to jump slightly. A small point of light formed just before Garland's breast. But slowly, the point began to expand into a ball of pure energy that soon had engulfed him completely, until the Warriors couldn't even see each other in its brightness.(They weren't ready) When the light finally died down, before them stood, not Garland but a terrible winged beast. It was sandy brown in color and had a strong, muscular build, only looking a bit human. The details that had once marked that of Garland's armor now seemed to create the very flesh of the beast, and even the horrible devil horns that sprouted from Garland's helm had melted into the head of the beast.  
  
"I will be reborn here" The beast said in a horrible, deep voice, contrasting the voice Garland had held before. "So even as you die again and again I will return. Born again into this endless circle that I have created."  
  
The Red Wizard's blood ran cold.(Even with their extensive trust and friendship, they could never have won) Could this be Chaos? If that was true, and Garland was Chaos, then there would be no way to end the chain. No way that is, unless they were to cut him down now. The Red Wizard put his hand to the sheathe of his sword, and drew it slowly, holding it on end, and the other Warriors followed suit. There was no need for words, each of the Warriors knew what the other was thinking, and each knew they were thinking the same thing. Chaos would die here and now.  
  
The beast, Chaos gave a smirk, characteristic to that of Garland. "So you dare to challenge me?" He questioned them. He gave a flap to his mighty wings. "Very well."  
  
With that Chaos took to the air, gazing down at his opponents with almost pity, as if he saw a future of pain for them.(They were missing something) But the Red Wizard was confident in his own abilities, and the abilities of his comrades. He smirked back at the winged beast, holding his sword poised to attack. He gave a glance to the Knight, and gave a little nod. The Knight nodded back and gave a small gesture to Chaos. Only the Red Wizard himself knew what he'd meant by this. To any other, even to the Black and White Wizards, this was just a small mental conversation, but in fact this was an exchange of plans. Quickly, he began to mutter an incantation under his breath, still holding his sword poised as if ready to attack. The Black and White Wizards began to breathe the words of their own spells, seeing their comrade begin. The Red Wizard slowly felt himself drifting from the battle field, his own words engulfing him, the power of the spell rushing through his veins as if it was his own blood.  
  
"Haste!" He pointed his sword to the Knight and a rush of hyper energy burst from his veins and into that of his friend.  
  
The Black Wizard followed suit. "Temper!" As his own, smaller burst of energy rushed in to fill his comrade.  
  
"Holy!" The first true offensive spell was unleashed by the White Wizard.(Compassion) The battle was on. And it was with that the Chaos creature unleashed his first attack.  
  
"Blaze" The creature muttered in a cold voice, and with that word the very ground around them turned hot. The Red Wizard gave a small cry in pain as a steaming hot liquid filled his shoes. The floor itself had melted.(They cared for each other enough to do everything in their power to save each other) Pillars of melted slate billowed up into the air, and the white hot liquid rained down upon the four, causing each to cry out in the blinding pain. And with that the floor grew solid again, and the intense heat dissipated.  
  
The Red Wizard withdrew in pain, the attack hindering his ability to think for a few seconds, but it didn't stop the Knight, who immediately flew in for a physical blow, his body practically glowing with the magical energy that had been forced into him, and the blow he delivered seemed enough to even cause Chaos to wince in pain.(But they didn't attempt to do things they thought were above them) Chaos however wasn't at all stunned from the overall blow, and retaliated with a swift swipe that could even cut through his diamond armor. There was a sickening crunching noise as the beast's long claw collided with the Knight's chest, and flung him across the room landing limply in a heap.  
"Flare!" The voice of the Black Wizard was heard just as the Knight hit the floor, and a blinding flash of light engulfed the Chaos creature, and then was sucked into small black point, only to emerge in a burst of flames and light a second later, showering it in the white hot embers of pure energy.  
  
However despite the intensity of the blow, Chaos seemed to brush the hit off easily.(They didn't value each other's lives above all else) It gave a grunt, and glared at the Warriors, now not mocking, but enraged. "Tsunami." It growled, and with that word water began to flow right into the room, and Chaos flew up to avoid the water.  
  
The Red Wizard exchanged a frightened glance with the White Wizard, knowing it would be impossible to avoid the blow, and then looked ahead to see a giant wave above them. It came down with a crash, sending a spike of pain through the Red Wizard's body.(And thats worth more than any battle strategy) He looked up weakly, only to see another wave, and then another, and another, each one crashing down on the party until the were all submerged. Water filled the wizard's lungs, and he struggled to find the breath of air he so longed for. And all at once the water receded, leaving the four Warriors on the floor, gasping for air and coughing up water.(But how can you create something like that?) Or at least, the Red and Black Wizard were. On the floor the White Wizard lay, crumpled and drenched, not moving or breathing, and a few feet away lay the Knight, still laying in a relatively similar position to the one he'd been laying in previously.  
  
"No..." The Black Wizard breathed, looking out at his fallen comrades. Immediately he shook himself of the shock he'd received and scoured his blue, and now drenched cloaks for a phoenix down. But as soon as he averted his gaze from his foe, a long, muscular claw swooped down and collided with his fragile body, flinging him across the room.(Maybe it just happens by chance) The Red Wizard looked on in horror as his last standing comrade was taken from him, now laying in a steadily growing puddle of crimson fluid. He could feel his stomach turn backflips. His three comrades, three best friends, all gone in a matter of minutes, and he hadn't done anything to stop it.  
  
He closed his eyes, and tried to somehow, somehow get away from the situation, to concentrate on his spells, so that he could revive his friends, but shock and fear gripped him.  
  
Just leave it all behind He told himself, and slowly forced his fallen comrades and his foe from his mind. He began to mutter the incantation to the life spell momentarily, the only spell that would be able to save him and his friends now.(Then the only way for Chaos to come down, is to take that chance) But his words didn't come swift enough, as another word, dripping with hatred, pierced the air. "Thundaga"  
  
The Red Wizard's eyes shot open as he spun around just in time to see the enormous peals of lightning headed straight for him. And then it hit. Electricity burned flesh as the lightning pulsed through the wizard's body, making even fiber in his body scream with more pain than he'd ever imagined. He could feel himself falling... falling.  
  
He'd failed.  
  
He'd failed his comrades who had fought so hard to get there, he'd failed Corneria, Princess Sara, everyone he'd promised to help, to save Gaia from it's certain doom.(Maybe then, things will turn out differently) He'd failed all of Gaia. The pain was gone now, and the last thing that passed the wizard's lips, were two words, strung as one, meaning every feeling that he could feel at the moment. "I'm.. sorry..."


	2. Black Magic, Old Tales and Forest Imps

A cool, chilled breeze rattled the leaves of the trees, on a brisk afternoon in Autumn. Their leaves had been painted an array of red, orange, and golden hues, bringing the whole forest to life. The late afternoon sun beamed down on the forest, warming the land, and seeming to almost comfort it from the harsh, brisk breeze, that signified the coming of winter. A boy, no more than seventeen years old, walked beneath the canopy, letting dry leaves crunch beneath his feet as he walked. The cold wind of winter chilled him, and forced him to pull his bright red cloaks close around his body. The boy had always thought red a rather heroic color, and he prided himself in wearing them.

He didn't have to worry about common muggers often in the woods, after all. He knew there weren't many thieves in the woods with all the monsters around, and even if there were, he was both an adept fencer and an adept healer, with a reserve of black magic at his disposal as well. His uncle had warned him that it was only if he absolutely needed it, but the knowledge that he had it was already a comfort in itself. Being a red mage certainly did have its perks.

Of course, it wasn't as if a mugger or thief would be likely to try to attack him. His long, bleached white, fine hair, cold gray-green eyes, and deadly looking rapier were enough to discourage anyone, magic or no magic. A red, wide brimmed hat with a dove white feather set atop his head completed the picture. His name was Maric Argonson, and he was proud of his image.

Maric gave another shiver as the cold air of winter began to set in. _It just gets worse every year._ He thought with a sigh. _The winters are getting colder and longer, and the harvests just keep getting worse and worse. There's more monsters, more war too._ Life itself was getting harder every day as plants seemed to give up their will to live right before his eyes. While at any other time Maric might have simply assumed that his gift didn't lie in farming as it had for his father and mother, the lack of any luck rearing crops from anyone else in Corneria rang a silent death toll. Plants were dying, and with no food there could be no life.

 _We'll never make it through the winter_. He shook his head. _Someone needs to do something about all this, or we'll all be doomed._

The sun would be setting soon, as it's trip across the horizon neared its end. _I should be heading home,_ he thought, shoving his hands into his pockets, _Uncle Rachen would have my head if he knew I was out wandering so late._ He chuckled a bit. The old black mage could be a nag, but he knew it was all done with good intentions. After illness had claimed both of his parents lives he was grateful that the man had so kindly taken to looking after him. Black mages were treated with wariness in Corneria, where technically the practice was considered illegal, but resistances seemed to be popping up everywhere. Maric didn't trust many of them, but his uncle was different. He knew he would never use his powers for evil, and neither would Maric.

_Magic is used to aid, not to harm._ Maric repeated to himself,  _A good mage always does what he can to protect himself first, and then those who don't have protection. It's only when defense isn't enough that offense becomes necessary._ He grinned a bit, touching the hilt of his rapier,  _And that is where the blade comes in._

As much as Maric considered himself a fair spellcaster, he considered himself an even better swords man. He liked to imagine himself as a great adventurer, out to slay dragons and rescue princesses. He drew his sword from his sheathe, watching as the dappled sunlight glinted upon his blade.

“Come at me, foul demon, and I shall slay thee!” he shouted at the wind, imagining the hoards of creatures from below that would perish by his blade. Maric relished in stories of sword and sorcery, his favorite being the tale of two knights, one born common, and the other born noble. The common born went on to save the kingdom from a war that threatened to tear it in two, while the noble fought demons in the background, saving the world though dying in obscurity, his name lost to the world.

His second favorite story was an even older tale, the Lufenian prophecy that foretold the coming of the Warriors of Light. He knew the tale by heart, and even more he relished in the fantasy that one day it might prove to be real.

_There's got to be a reason father passed on that red crystal, after all._ Maric rationalized as he hacked through some of the low hanging foliage with his rapier,  _It's either a Zodiac Stone, in which case I should be possessed by now, or its one of the crystals from the prophecy and one day it will be up to me or a descendant of mine to save the world._ He grinned a bit at the thought,  _All I have to do is wait. One day I'll be destined for greatness, I'm sure of it._

Suddenly a sound, the rustling of trees and the snapping of twigs, gave Maric a jolt, and he instantly shot to attention, his rapier flew from it's sheathe, the sound of metal on metal stabbing through the once quiet air. He looked around wearily.

"You're caught." He cried. "Surrender yourselves or ah... die in obscurity!”his battle cry was a touch halting, but he tried his best to stay steadfast. He knew he could hold his own. He was going to be a great warrior, after all.

After a moment a small creature with beady little eyes, and a squished, wart strewn face staggered into view. It couldn't have been more than three feet tall, and it had pointed, bat like ears and a crooked, smashed in looking snout. It wore a torn and dirtied rag as it's clothing. It had been green once but was so stained with dirt and dried blood that Maric could hardly tell what it was supposed to be. A short, rusted dagger was clutched in one of the creature's tiny hands and it snarled a bit as it approached Maric, looking ready for a fight. Maric brandished his sword in kind. He wasn't afraid.

He studied the imp closely. Strangely this one seemed to have a bit of a limp, and it seemed to be carrying something rather large, poorly concealed beneath the folds of its dirty, ragged clothing. Maric frowned, _What the devil is this?_ He wondered as he squared off with his foe. It didn't seem to matter now. What mattered was that the imp was growing impatient, and it looked like it was ready to strike.

“Come on then!” Maric prompted, “If you're so eager to taste my steel, let's have at it!”

The prompt seemed to me enough. Immediately, the imp sprang into action, not paying a bit of attention to Maric's drawn sword. It lunged at him, it's own blade poised to attack, and Maric swung down to counter the attack. Metal clanged on metal as the blades collided, and the imp's dagger went flying from its hands, and landed in the brush a few feet away. The imp again lunged, this time with its bare fists, but of course the battle was already won. Maric took the opportunity that had been handed to him, and swinging his blade cut the imp clean in two. It died instantly, and Maric stood back, a bit winded, wiping his sword with the edge of his cape.

He sighed, “Monsters are showing up now, it really is getting late.” he mumbled to himself as he strode forwards to take a look at his spoils, “Next thing you know I'll be meeting wolves, or worse, black mages.”

It was well known that a small band of Black Mages made their home in the Cornerian Forest and often would attack people without warning. Some said it was a retaliation against the oppression practitioners of black magic felt from the Cornerian government, while others assumed that they were simply monsters, driven mad by the power they'd mastered. They certainly acted like monsters, and looked like them too. Maric wanted to believe some might be friendly, but there was a large difference between a black mage like Uncle Rachen, and a Black Mage one might meet in the woods.

Now Maric stooped down pulling back the ragged cloaks the imp had left behind, or, what was left of the imp anyway. A large pouch had been tied to the creature's makeshift belt. Maric frowned. Imps were known for stealing sums of gil from travelers, being attracted to the shine of the gold, but they weren't well known for keeping it stored away so nicely. The bag didn't seem to be of impish make, it was quite nicely decorated, bound with a fine golden cord and lined with fine satin. Maric looked around.

_Someone must have dropped this._ He looked around, frowning. Whoever it belonged to had to have been looking for it. It seemed rather important, and was quite heavy at that,  _I wonder who it belongs to._

Maric glanced about once more, and then turned his eyes back to the bag. Curiosity was both Maric's greatest ally and his most intense enemy, but today it didn't seem worth it to fight back the beast. He had to know what was inside. Looking around once more he pulled back the string and opened the bag.

Maric was sure his heart stopped for almost a minute when he peered inside.

Inside was a large blue crystal, glinting and shimmering in the dying light. Maric's hands began to shake. He knew what this was. He knew what it had to be, there was no mistaking it. This crystal was identical to his own, identical to the one he carried with him at all times. It shimmered slightly, glowing in the fading light with what seemed to be a light of its own. Maric's heart pounded.

_This is it! This is really it!_ Maric's mind spun as he held up the crystal, turning it in his now trembling hands,  _The Second crystal! There must be another Warrior of Light nearby! The coming of the prophecy, it's all true! Now all I have to do is find who this crystal belongs to and our quest will begin. Perhaps all three of the other Warriors will be there. Perhaps they will ask me to join them as their fourth and we will ride off to bring light back to the land! At last, we our great destiny will begin to unfold!_

Maric just grinned as he went to pocket the other crystal, but as he did something stopped him.

There was a voice on the wind, only just loud enough to be heard. It was so soft Maric could have sworn after a second that he'd just imagined it. He frowned, listening closer, and at last it came again, this time even softer.

"Please... somebody... help..."

Maric's blood ran cold. He looked about, trying to ascertain where the voice had come from, but he was at a loss. It seemed to be far away, ethereal, and swiftly fading away.

"Hello?" Maric called out at last, "Is anybody there?"

No answer came, and Maric felt another chill.

"Hello!?" He called again, this time louder. "Please answer me! I can't help you if I don't know where you are!"

His blood ran cold. More than likely he was too late, but still he pressed on. There had to be something. At last a broken tree branch caught his eye, and a few feet away a dead imp body was lying, looking as if it had been scorched to death. There had been a battle here. Someone had fought a bunch of imps, and lost.

Maric broke into a sprint now, following the trail of splintered trees and broken twigs into a clearing. At first he saw nothing other than more trees and brush, but upon further inspection he realized that a trail of blood had been left on the grass, still glinting red in the fading sun. Maric blinked, slowly inching forward, and at last his eyes settled on a small crumpled figure that was lying beneath a weathered, bent looking oak tree.

“H-hello?” Maric began again, slowly approaching the crumpled figure, “Are you al-...”

Maric's words died on his lips as soon as he got close enough to the figure to realize what he was looking at. What lay in front of Maric now, crumpled beneath the tree, wasn't a simple traveler in the woods, but rather a black mage. The look was unmistakable, steepled hat, blue cloaks, shaded face made entirely invisible to the world save for two ominous glowing eyes. The figure's eyes were shut now, naturally, but Maric knew well enough what to expect from the likes of black mages. Glowing eyes and a heart black as coal and filled with a thirst for fire and death.

Maric looked around a few times, scouring his surroundings for other black mages like this one. He didn't see any, but he knew if one was around, there likely would be more to follow. He waited for a moment, anticipating an ambush, but nothing happened. The woods were silent and still, the forest was calm, and the sun was still setting.

Maric looked down at the figure once more. It was strange that any group of black mages would leave one of their own in such awful states. The royal blue robe that the figure wore, was stained red in several places from blood, and were torn badly in several places and there were long crisscrossing wounds across his back and arms, the signature style of imps.

_A black mage defeated by forest imps and left for dead?_ Maric frowned,  _Awfully strange._

Maric gave the bundle of robes a small kick, but the body did not react. _It must be dead._ He thought, crossing his arms, _Seems an utter waste to leave his body to rot, though. Out here the imps will pick his bones clean before morning, and his soul will likely be trapped here forever._ He sighed, _Best to burn the body now. Better that than to have ghosts wandering the forest as well as imps and black mages._

Maric closed his eyes, and emptied his mind of all the cares and worries that constantly plagued his thoughts. Isolating himself from reality, and bringing him into a world where only magic existed. But he could feel a presence in the midst of his own meditation. A strong magical aura that seemed to break into his body and mind. This is something that only happened when a mage with stronger potential magical power was in his presence. But Maric was sure he was the only person around, just him and the dead black mage. Unless the mage wasn't dead.

Maric's eyes snapped open, as he flew back into reality, and he grabbed the mage's wrist. Red, sticky fluid clung to Maric's hand, but he ignored the utterly disgusting contact. The mage's soft, pale white skin was cold and clammy to the touch, but Maric found what he needed despite the overall dead appearance. A pulse. A steady surge flying under his fingertips that meant life. Relief flooded him for a split second, until uncertainty took it's place. The mage was alive, but fading fast. If Maric didn't do something now it wouldn't live, but did he really want to save the life of a person who could be a killer? Did he really want to risk bringing back something wicked and evil? Did the risk outweigh the benefit of saving a life, just because the victim happened to be a black mage? After all, he was a mage too, as was his uncle, and he knew he would do anything to save him. He could be leaving an innocent person to die.

 _He's a black mage_ He reminded himself. _It still could be a trap. All of this looks suspicious. That Black Mage gang is probably going to jump out to surprise me any minute now._ He looked around, waiting for his prediction to be correct. _Any minute now._

Nothing happened. At last Maric stood up, frustrated with the lack of evidence in his favor.

“Okay fine!” he shouted into the forest, “I'm healing your black mage friend now! I hope you're happy! If you attack me I'll make you pay for it! I'll have you know I'm a Warrior of Light!”

Maric sighed and turned back to the mage. With one hand, he reached into his back pocket, groping for a plume of phoenix down, while his other hand found it's way to the hilt of his rapier. If this really was a trap as he'd suspected he was ready to strike down anyone who dared approach him. Cautiously, he pulled a red leather pouch from his pocket, and released the golden tie that held the mouth of the pouch tightly shut. He turned the pouch onto it's side and sprinkled it's contents, a mixture of crimson feathers and some type of powder, onto the lifeless mage.

The second the first plume of phoenix down brushed against the black mage's blood stained robes, the magic began. It started as a tiny point of light, that appeared only as the first plume settled. But as it sat the light began to grow, and as more plumes landed they too began to emit light. Soon the tiny points had all combined as one, all shimmering and twinkling as one. Dancing upon the mage's blue, bloodstained cloak, and overshadowing the small crevices the fabric held. Maric took a step back as the phoenix down feathers worked their healing magic, almost in awe. The blue, white light played across his features as it engulfed the mage's last remaining viable parts. A thin ring of light formed around the mage, and all at once, the light erupted and grew ten times as bright, nearly blinding Maric as he watched, and then all at once died down into nothing.

There was no sign that the plumes had ever been there, they seemed to have disappeared into thin air. The mage still lay there, not moving, still lifeless. _It didn't work_ .Maric thought sadly. His heart hung heavy in his chest, and his stomach seemed to tie itself into a knot. He'd been too late, the mage really had been beyond all hope. Maric shook his head, and turned to walk away, slowly, defeat hanging over his shoulders. He took a few slow steps away, his head lowered a bit in shame that he couldn't save him, but a small sound stopped him in his tracks.

“O...oh...” a soft groan came from the black mage's lips as he rolled over, curling up into a ball and covering his face. He was breathing a bit hard now, shaking a little as he slowly began to wake, pulling himself back from the brink of death.

_I did it!_ Maric's heart soared,  _I've done it! I saved him! I..._ he trailed off as horror slowly crept over him. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

_I just revived a black mage._ He thought, his hand flying to the hilt of his rapier, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. _What have I done? What was I thinking? Black mages kill and raid. Black mages find joy in watching the despair of others. They don't deserve life, and I just saved this one from the exact thing it should have received, death. What was I thinking? Now he's going to see me and kill me and it's going to be all my..._

Another small groan interrupted Maric's inner-rant. The mage was beginning to rise, no longer shaking in pain. His sudden, slow movement startled Maric, and for a second threw him off his guard, but he quickly recovered and drew his rapier, holding it threateningly to the mage's back. The mage had now risen to a crouching position, small slits of amber light emitting from his half lit eyes, the only indication of his otherwise blackened face.

 _Fast healer_ ,Maric thought to himself as he watched the boy rise. He didn't dare let his guard down now, and he kept his rapier trained on the mage as he rose, teeth gritted. He only hoped that he would be in time to strike if the mage really did end up being dangerous.

The mage, slowly turned around, putting a hand to his temples, probably to speed up the new adjustment to light, and when he removed them was met with the point of Maric's rapier, pointed right to his neck. He flinched backwards and gave a little cry, his bright yellow eyes staring up at Maric, through the shadow of his wide-brimmed straw hat written with surprise and fear.

The two stared at each other for what seemed to Maric like hours. Maric's heart pounded. He knew he needed to keep the mage at bay with his sword, but beyond that he had no idea what to do. The mage looked about ready to faint dead away again, pressing himself up against the tree and scrambling against the bark in an attempt to stay as far away from the sword as possible. An eerie silence spread over the forest, and it seemed for those seconds, or minutes, or hours that they stat there, the world, and even time itself stood still, as if waiting for Maric to do something. The forest stood still, silent. Not a bird, nor animal nor forest imp disturbed the brush, and the wind had died so that not even a whisper escaped through the trees.

“State your business here who are you?!”Finally, Maric broke the silence, his voice harsh and demanding, "Friend or foe?"

The mage looked at him for a second, his fear seeming to dissipate, and curiosity taking it's place.

"W-Well, ah...”He began, his was incredibly young sounding. Maric hadn't noticed before how small the mage was, but upon hearing him speak it was obvious that he couldn't possibly be much more than a child. His voice cracked a bit as he spoke, lingering along the fine line between childhood and adolescence, but in spite of his youth he seemed incredibly serious.

"That depends..." He glanced about uncomfortably, breaking eye contact with Maric, before beginning again. "Were you.. ah.. involved, or in any way affiliated with the hanging of a black wizard who went by the name of Wyatt Tellerman?" The boy spoke very quickly, almost fast enough to leave Maric's head spinning. The request was an odd one, and unnerving at that.

Now it was Maric's turn to feel uncomfortable. Maric knew there were lynchings and hangings that went on in Corneria quite often when black mages were discovered. Mainly it was considered a defense, one of the few things most had to defend against black magic was the fact that if a mage couldn't speak, they couldn't cast. The hangings were deemed a necessity, but Maric thought they were utterly barbaric. He often wondered if he'd be turned on just as fast if his own practice of black magic was discovered. At length, Maric shook his head.

"Then, Friend." He said, his tone of voice not wavering from it's original tone, but his eyes met Maric's again, this time they were written with relief.

Maric slowly withdrew his sword from it's position and slid it back into it's sheathe. He stepped back, ready to let the young mage go, but strangely he didn't move, nor did he make any attempts to get up.

The tension remained, hanging heavily in the air, preventing either from moving or speaking. But soon tension turned to confusion as the two soon forgot their reasons for being so tense in the first place, and confusion turned to curiosity. And all at once a million questions began to brim up inside of him, and Maric could feel the pin pricks of curiosity stabbing him from all directions. Questions of all sorts began to pop into his mind, from silly trivial things like, "Why do his eyes glow like that?" and "Which spells does he know?" to more serious ones like, "What's he doing out here alone?" and "Why hasn't he attacked me yet?". And then, one single question forced all the others from his mind, and lingered there. "Is he the one who the crystal I found belongs to?"

Despite Maric's wide array of questions, it was the mage who spoke first. "Umm... sir?" He asked, cocking his head to one side. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Maric blinked, a touch embarrassed, and looked away, mumbling an appology.

"Oh.. I wasn't asking you to avert your gaze." The mage recovered quickly, and managing to confuse Maric even more throughly. "I just wanted to know why. But if you don't want to tell me you don't have to."

Maric gave the mage another confused stare, thinking at first that the mage was joking, but his eyes told Maric that he was serious. _What the devil is wrong with this boy?_ He wondered, taken aback _He asks me about a hanging and then tries to pick my brain? Doesn't he realize who has the sword here?_ He paused a bit, lingering on the thought, _Maybe his magic is so powerful that he doesn't need to worry. Could he be so powerful being so young?_

"I.. ah...” Maric was at a loss, and feeling more small and awkward by the second, “I was just confused, um, or wondering, ah... I mean, you being a black mage and all is...”

"Ah, good!" The mage cut him off, looking delighted, “We both have questions then! I'll start, okay?”

Maric blinked, nodding. The boy hadn't even moved and still he outpaced him.

“Alright, first off, who are you, and also how did I get here, and also did you find me here and also why are you dressed all in red, it looks a little silly like that you know.” The boy's questions came in such rapid succession that Maric could barely follow him. It took him a moment to process everything, and when he had, he just shook his head.

“I'm.. I'm not... I don't know?” Maric's answer was really more of a question. He frowned a bit, “And for your information, I happen to like the red. Your really shouldn't insult someone who saved your life.”

"Wait..." The mage interrupted. "You... saved my life?" This seemed to at last give the boy pause. Maric almost sighed in relief. Finally he could get a word or two in.

Maric nodded. "I suppose you could say that" he said. "Though it was really only a plume of phoenix do-"

"You saved my life! You rescued me! A non-mage, a non-mage really rescued me!” The mage exclaimed, cutting Maric off once more. "The others said it would never happen but they were wrong!They all said that you were all the same and they were wrong! It really happened! You really aren't all the same!"

The words hit Maric like a bolt from the blue.

"All the same?" Maric repeated. "But... you black mages... aren't _you_ all the same?"

"Well of course not." The mage replied, giving Maric a confused look. "What ever gave you that idea?"

"Well you do all look the same..." Maric replied rather bluntly. "And you all wear the same clothes, and the same hats, and the same... faces." And now that Maric thought about it, it was actually quite unsettling to think of the mages themselves. There was absolutely no way to tell one from another. They all looked exactly alike to the untrained eye, and even then differences were very small.

The mage fell silent, his previous talkative, curious air vanishing completely, and Maric knew he'd said the wrong thing. He lowered his head so that his oversized hat covered the large yellow orbs that he called 'eyes'.

"Then you are all alike..." He mumbled, his voice his barely audible.

Maric shook his head. "What?" Was the only reply he could come up with. What did he mean by that? Why had his statement effected him like that? The little mage hadn't ceased to confuse him since they'd met.

"What?" The mage echoed, looking back up at Maric. "Oh... s-sorry I was just ah..." He waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, we should head our own ways now. It will be dark soon and... well... I really don't think we should be out here much longer."

Maric nodded. Everyone in Corneria seemed to know that the night heralded evil things that often stole the lives of travelers by night. The young mage had already nearly lost his life to one of them, and standing around any longer held the danger of rendering them both victims to an even worse fate. Maric feared that if whatever had nearly killed this mage returned he would have no choice but to run, or die fighting as the mage boy nearly had.

"I won't forget this, you know." The mage announced after a few seconds, once again catching Maric off guard, "And you shouldn't either. From now on I'm in your debt. Remember that."


	3. Master of the Wind and Rain

In the air about the Cornerian forest there was trouble and tension. Maric Argonson never thought he would see the day when another black mage, besides his uncle, showed a friendly face. A young black mage, who's age was difficult to place exactly, sitting there in the forest, looking near death and rather weakened and fatigued, somehow, by stroke of pure luck hadn't proved to be something vile or evil.

The boy got to his feet, or rather, tried to, because the second he stood up he collapsed to the ground again. He gave a weak laugh, but Maric could tell the boy was worried, and Maric himself was concerned for the mage's safety. A phoenix down could revive a person from the brink of death, and help them to regain consciousness, but it wouldn't bring them to full strength, nowhere near it. Naturally, it wasn't a good idea to try your luck in a forest full of creatures that could easily tear you to shreds right after using one. The boy might have stood a chance, however slim, of making it through alive before, but now there was barely any hope.

Again the mage tried to stand, this time managing to get to his feet by leaning against the tree he'd been lying under, and shot a glance to Maric, as if to assure him that he'd be fine. Maric just raised an eyebrow. The mage didn't have any idea of what he was getting himself into, and it was clear that if he had nearly been killed before, whatever it was that attacked him would be out to get him again the second he began to wander. This mage had absolutely no way of surviving the forest, no where to go when he got out, and didn't even seem to know how slim his chances of surviving were.

"Do you want some help?" Maric offered, extending a hand.

The mage shook his head.

"I'm fine" He replied. "I just need to regain my balance, thats all. It's not that far to Corneria from here"

 _He's going to Corneria? After the laws the king passed?_ Maric thought, almost surprised at how naive the mage was.

"Seriously, you need to come with me." Maric insisted. This mage was the first mage, besides his uncle, that he'd met who wasn't a blood thirsty murderer. There weren't enough mages left in the world who couldn't be called evil. Maric wasn't about to let this one march off to certain doom, he simply couldn't stand to see it, especially with the boy being as young as he was.

The mage didn't move, looking a bit uncomfortable. He didn't look like he was ready to leave yet, but he didn't seem sold on following Maric home either.

The red mage sighed at last, "Look.. I don't mean to be blunt but, you don't stand a chance in the woods on your own. You can barely even stand, and you _know_ there are monsters that come back at night.” he crossed his arms, “I healed you already, so it's my job to keep you healed. I can help you get back to Corneria and dress your wounds once we're there. I didn't waste phoenix down on you just to watch you march back out and get killed all over again.”

The mage recoiled, looking just a bit hurt. Maric bit his lip. The mage was only a child, after all. Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh. The young boy seemed to recoil a little, looking down for a moment.

“Ah.. l-listen, I'm sorry.” Maric stammered out again, “I didn't mean to come off so harsh, I just..”

"S-save your apologies! I don't need you!" the boy shouted, drawing back, his yellow eyes suddenly full of fierce anger, "I don't need an escort to get into town. I have magic, and I have my blade! I'm.. I'm a black mage, I d-don't need anyone's help! After all, who would dare cross the path of a warrior of the elements? I am wielder of the very fibers of creation! Master of wind and rain. What do you know of magic anyway? You're a sword wielder: some sort of knight, you know nothing of the power of magic. Why, if I'd had half a mind, I could roast you on the spot, with my magic! You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or I'd have fried you already!" The boy's voice cracked quite a few times as he launched his tyrade. He looked proud of himself as he finished and he put his hands to his hips proudly. Maric didn't believe it for a second.

"Right..." Maric murmured smirking. "A 'master of creation' who gets beaten within an inch of his life by forest imps.” He chuckled bit, and the black mage seemed to wither just a bit. “Anyway, you're wrong about me being just a swordsman too. I'm a mage too, black _and_ white magic.”

"That's beside the point." The mage crossed his arms, looking irritated, " I don't need your help."

With that the mage pushed himself away from the tree and took a few shaky steps away, standing up straight. Maric imagined there was a triumphant smile concealed beneath the shadow of his hat.

"See?" He said, his voice cracking again and ruining the effect he had tried to portray."I can fend for myself."

And with those words, a relapse took hold of the adolescent mage and he fell to the ground a third time, landing on the dry leaves of the forest floor with a small thud. He gave a little groan as he recovered from the fall. Maric sighed, shaking his head. The mage had sealed his fate, there was no way he was going to go off on his own.

"Come on..." Maric sighed, grabbing the mage by the wrist and pulling him to his feet with a swift jerk. "Town's not that far off. You can sleep at my house for the night, but on no circumstances may you wander about without my permission. If anyone happened to see you in there we'd both be driven out of town."

The mage pulled away from Maric, an accusing look crossing his face, "Who said I'd go with you?" He demanded.

"I did." Maric answered. "And it's not like you have a choice."

“Eh?” the black mage frowned, “What do you mean.”

“You said you were in my debt.” Maric grinned, shaking a finger at him, “And I'm collecting that debt now by asking you a favor, and that favor is that you come with me and not get yourself killed out in this forest.”

For a second the mage raised an eyebrow, not seeing where Maric was coming from, but soon his eyes widened as realization of what he'd gotten himself into dawned on him.

"Th-Thats not fair." He protested, still gaping at the red mage. "I-I didn't.. you... I.."

Maric smirked. "All is fair in love, war, and contracts." He replied. "Now let's get going."

The mage gave a gusty sigh, and reluctantly took his place behind Maric, stumbling a bit as he walked. And so Maric began to walk in the lead towards the village, but as soon as they began their trek back the mage gave a small cry, and fell to the ground again.

Maric turned to face him.

"Here..." He said, taking hold of the mage's wrist and swung his arm over his shoulder. Then Maric put his own arm around the mage's back to help support him, and in turn the mage began to lean on him a bit for support.

For a moment, the mage was silent, keeping his eyes to the ground. But soon he spoke, without lifting his head. "Why are you helping me?"

Maric opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. In truth, he really didn't know what had possessed him to help the mage in the long run other than sudden impulse. "I..." Maric began. " Well... why not?"

"You're putting yourself in danger for my sake..." He replied, his voice , grave and low. "You don't even know me, yet you are willing to take the risk of being seen with me to ensure my safety. I don't understand. Why put your life on the line for that of a stranger?"

Maric thought over his words, and he realized the mage was right. He was really taking a risk for no real reason other than to save the mage's life, and he didn't even know if his life was worth anything. But then, a factor that had been pushed to the back of his mind after everything that had happened was brought forth. _What if the Crystal I found is his. What if he's the other Warrior of Light._

"Because..." Maric began, but hesitated. " Well.. first I want to ask you something."

The mage nodded, picking his head up now. Maric delved into the pocket of his overcoat, until he pulled out the blue crystal he'd seen the imp carrying. It's center was glowing now, seeming to react to the closeness of its owner.

"Is this yours?" He asked, holding the crystal up. The mage's eyes widened to twice their size.

"Oh..." He gasped, not taking his eyes off of the crystal. "Did I... how did you?"

"I got it off of a forest imp before I heard you call for help." Maric replied. "I thought it might have been your's but I didn't have time to ask."

"You've just saved my life a second time." The mage breathed in reply, still not taking his eyes off the crystal. "umm... for what price?"

Maric laughed. "No price. I assure you. You're already in debt enough. " He replied. "Although... who in their right mind would try to steal from a Light Warrior."

"Light... Warrior?" The mage asked, his head to one side, apparently not grasping the meaning of Maric's words.

"Yep." Maric confirmed. "And I'm a Light Warrior too. So that makes us teammates." Maric smiled at him warmly, although he didn't know if his statement was true. All he really had to go on was the old story he'd learned from Rachen, but if it was enough to get the mage on his side then it was good enough for him.

"Well.." The mage said reluctantly. "What ever you say... sir."

"Ah..Maric." He corrected the mage. He certainly wasn't ready to be called a 'sir', "You can call me Maric... and you are?"

"Shane." The mage replied. "Shane Tellerman. Wyatt Tellerman was my father." A hint of bitterness marked his words.

 _His father?_ Maric echoed in his mind. _Thats why he wanted to know if I had been involved in the man's hanging,_

"Okay, Shane." Maric replied. "Anyway, we're teammates now, and teammates are supposed to help each other. Is your question answered now?"

"I ... I suppose..." Came his reluctant reply.

Maric couldn't help cracking a smile, as he began walking again, holding a steady pace that was slow enough for the weakened mage. Shane's oddness was slowly becoming more palatable to Maric. Already the boy had begun too grow on him, though he was still a bit wary. T _hat can't mean all mages are like this, right?_ He thought. _I mean... most of them are still blood thirsty killers, right? How wrong were we really?_

Maric glanced at Shane for a second. He was still watching the ground, maybe in deep thought. _It could easily be an act._ He told himself. _Perhaps he was just trying to win me over and get me to drop my guard._ He shook his head after a moment. The thought seemed ludicrous.

After a minute or so Shane's footing slipped again. The boy clung to Maric's coat with both hands, wincing a little, as if in pain again.

"Hey, are you okay?" Maric asked.

Shane nodded. "F-fine..." He replied. "Just... just a little tired..." His voice seemed strained now, and he was panting as if it was hard to keep up with Maric. He in turn slowed his pace a bit, but it didn't seem to help much.

 _Don't drop off on me now..._ Maric pleaded silently. _We need to make it into town, and it'll be a lot easier with you awake._ There had to be some way to keep him awake, but the phoenix down was the only medicine he'd had left, and he'd depleted his mana within the first hour of his little journey. The only other option seemed to be to talk to the mage to keep him alert, but that was better than nothing.

"So..." Maric began, not really knowing what to ask. "Why are you out here in the first place."

"Huh?" Shane snapped out of his thoughts at Maric's words, and lifted his head now to face him. "Oh... well...I..." he withdrew a bit, seeming a bit nervous, “I'd really not talk about it. I... I guess I don't really have any place to live. Not anymore.”

Maric blinked, feeling a pang of sympathy for the boy, “You're homeless then?”

“You could say that.” Shane nodded.

“You said something about there being others before.” Maric noted, “Did you come here with someone. Perhaps with a group?”

"W-what?A group?" Shane echoed, suddenly looking a bit tense. He fell silent for a moment, but soon came up with an answer. "I... wanted to travel... alone for a while." But his words were resentful, and again marked by bitterness, and Maric could tell he hadn't chosen to go alone.

"That can be dangerous for a mage" Maric commented, trying to sound casual and distanced. The boy seemed to have quite enough raw nerves to hit. "You know that... right?"

"I know...but my father." He stopped in mid-sentence, pausing to compose himself. All at once he grew quiet, somber, "He had no problems traveling alone in the woods, and I...I thought that I might be able to too..." He trailed off, and cast his gaze to the ground again, beginning to plunge back into his thoughts.

"He was a great mage..." Shane mumbled after a few seconds of silence. "A great... wizard. He never used his power for evil either, he... helped people with it." His voice was low, and quiet, as if as he was talking he was recalling bittersweet moments of the past. "He didn't deserve death. He deserved more than anyone could have ever given him, but got the last thing that should have been given to him. People who don't respect life took it from him." For a second he fell silent, and heaved a sigh. "He was on a mission to clear our names, but his life was cut short. It isn't fair. Not for me, or for anyone. And I wanted to continue his legacy, and complete his mission, but I'm not half the mage he was. How can a... a mage like me fit into the shoes of such a great wizard?"

"Maybe you weren't meant to follow his footsteps." Maric offered, "Maybe you're meant to do something else."

"No!" The adolescent cried out. "You don't understand I..." But he stopped himself in mid sentence "No... of course you don't... you wouldn't"

"Don't understand what?" Maric asked.

"Oh.. it's... it's nothing." Shane replied, waving him off, and almost immediately changed the subject. "Hey... we're almost in... in town. I can see the lights... from... here."

And it was true, the lamp lit night streets of Corneria were visible beyond the trees and brush. They almost seemed like stars in the night sky, beckoning for them to come in. Of course that wasn't their destination, as Maric lived on the outskirts of a nearby town that was located near to Corneria, but it still seemed reassuring that they were near civilization.

For a second Maric stopped walking. It was a cold night, and the sky was an eerie dark blue black. The moon was the only light that shown through the low gray clouds, and the stars seemed suppressed by it's veil. There was a slight wind, but it felt odd, almost as if the wind was straining itself to blow. It gave Maric a feeling of impending doom, like something horrible was going to happen, had already started happening. Both the wind and the earth seemed to be slowly dieing, and no-one could stop it. Eventually everything would just stop living altogether and everyone would die along with the planet. The thought sent a shiver down Maric's spine. The thought of dieing that kind of slow and painful death. _But.. that wont happen for a long time now._ He reassured himself. _Won't it?_

All at once the black mage's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. Maric nearly jumped.

"Sh-Shane!? Oh gods!" He asked, snapping his fingers in front of his, now totally invisible, face. The mage however gave no response. "Shane?" He gave the mage a small shake, but to no avail. The boy had succumbed entirely to unconsciousness.

 _Just my luck_ Maric thought bitterly. _The very worst thing that could have happened just now happened. Now I'm stuck in the forest, alone, with not only my own safely to worry about, but now I've got this mage to look after too._

Being as gentle as he could, Maric rolled the mage onto his side, looking him over. His frail, thin body was completely covered by the long,navy blue garment he wore, which was made of a heaver material than Maric had imagined. His entire face was covered by a large straw hat that was woven quite loosely and was tied at the top with a slender piece of rope, and at the base with a piece of leather. Even as he lay in Maric's arms, his hat stayed in it's place, shielding his face from all light, and this, Maric knew, was because of a spell that his uncle had told him about. A "hat spell" as it was called by most, it was used to not only bind the hat to the head of it's wearer and block out all and any light from reaching the wearer's face, but also was credited for the yellow glowing orbs that took the place of eyes for them.

For a second, Maric's hand wandered to the brim of the mage's large straw hat. _No-one would know if I was to just take a small peek._ He thought, gripping the tip of the brim between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, began to pull the hat from the head of it's owner, not caring what he might think if he ever found out about what he was about to do, but suddenly, he stopped and released his grip on the mage's hat. For the first time since he'd met Shane, only now did he get a good look at his hand. A dark red, sticky, fluid now covered it, and had already begun to seep into the cuff of his shirt. Maric recoiled with a cry.

 _The phoenix down should have stopped most of the blood loss._ Maric thought, _Could he still have an open wound somewhere?_ He stooped down next to Shane, looking him over. His breathing had turned ragged now, and it was obvious he was starting to fade _If I don't do something now ... at this rate he'll be dead by morning._ Maric bit his lip, his heart now racing as he frantically searched for the last open wound his companion held.

It didn't take long to locate what he was looking for. A long tear, starting from the blue fabric near his forearm and and extending all the way to the cuff, separating the entire sleeve of the mage's robe in to two halves, gave away the location almost immediately. With a wave of relief washing over him Maric gingerly pulled away the bloodstained fabric to reveal a long, neatly cut wound that extended from the mage's wrist to his forearm. Maric cringed a bit. The wound looked terrible. Maric could hardly believe the boy had lasted so long without complaining of his wrist.

Maric quickly tore off a piece of red cloth from his own tattered cape that had already been partially severed, and began to wrap the wound tightly in the thin cloth. He'd never treated a wound like this before, and he wondered how tightly he would need too tie the boy's arm to stop the blood flow. He didn't want to damage the boy's arm, but he didn't want him to bleed out either. _It's not as if he's going to have to leave it on until it heals._ Maric reassured himself. _It's just to hold him 'till morning, when I have enough mana to heal him properly._ He sighed a bit, at last finishing the tie and stopping to look over his handiwork.

After a moment Maric pulled the half-shredded sleeve back over Shane's now bandaged arm, and took him back into his arms. It was late now, likely almost midnight, and the entire village was already sound asleep. As Maric walked, he could see all the houses coming into view. The dark forest had been cut off here, and faded into the long, grassy, rolling hills that made up his town. His own house was at the top of one of these hills, and although the house itself wasn't exactly a craftman's dream, the location was perfect. You could see the entire village from there as well as the gates of Corneria. The thought of his home, and getting there at last after his encounter put a spring in Maric's step. Just the thought of finally being able to lay down for some rest, made him feel a great deal more content.

But on the thought of getting home, another thing occurred to him that he hadn't thought of before. He had been out for quite a lot longer than he usually was, and in a community like the one he lived in, he wouldn't put it past some people to start investigating and tracking him. Especially his uncle, the only relative he knew of that was still alive. His mother and father had died only a year before, and had left their farm to him, and his uncle had ever since assumed the responsibility of keeping an eye on him. He was, at times, a bit of a fool, Maric would admit, but it was better than having no-one at all. It was only now that the loyalty of his uncle would come back to hinder him.

Silently, he pleaded the mage to somehow drift back into consciousness. _At least then_ _I could have him sneak around the back after I found that the coast was clear._ He thought, but it was quite clear to him that he was not going to wake up. Even if he did, he would probably barely be able to stand because of all the blood he'd lost. The wound he'd been dealt was far more fatal than anything he'd ever seen a forest imp deal.

As soon as this crossed his mind, he stopped dead in his tracks. Now, Maric, of course, was no fool, and he knew that Shane hadn't told him everything about what had happened before Maric found him in the forest, but this gave this situation a whole new tone. There was no way forest imps could have inflicted a wound so precise. He had encountered many in his travels, and knew off hand every possible move they could make. He also knew that a blow to the inside of the arm was near to impossible for a forest imp to make, and quite inconvenient as well. It was much easier to make an utterly crippling blow to the legs, much easier than it would be to get high enough to make a cut from the fore arm, all the way down to the wrist. And the style was far too clean for a forest imp, which usually would make several criss crossing slashes to the area it wanted to harm, nothing so precise, or so meant to cause pain. No, that wound had to have been made by something intelligent. Someone intelligent. Someone was after Shane's life, there was no doubt in Maric's mind about it, and not just bloodthirsty citizens of Corneria who were seeking revenge. This mage's life was of some kind of value to someone, and it was enough to make someone desperate to get rid of it. Maric shuttered. Something was telling him he was getting into much more than he could handle.

By now Maric had entered his little village, and now tread on the cobblestone roads. It was a really tiny town. It had only one general store, one inn, two magic shops, one of which his uncle owned, an armor shop, and a weapon shop. Lined around the town were several farms, and houses, all strewn across the hills, and it didn't take long for him to find his own house, an old, rundown shack at the top of a hill, with a sad looking excuse for a barn attached and some withered fields of what was supposed to be crops. It couldn't be denied, the fact that the 'farm' Maric lived on was a mess, and really a sad excuse for a farm in the first place, but his parents had been so intent on keeping it that it seemed a shame to leave it.

To Maric's surprise and relief, as he neared the house, the absence of light in the windows of the shack told him that his uncle hadn't shown up, and had left him be. And although he was relieved that he wouldn't have to face them, he felt a pang of anxiety and almost sadness that he hadn't been thought of in his absence. He could have easily been mugged, beaten, killed, or all three alone in the great Cornerian Forest. It was almost scary, the thought of being beaten and left for dead in the middle of the dark forest with no-one around to hear your cries for help.

The thought turned Maric's stomach. He glanced down at the mage in his arms, _That... that's what he probably felt like, wasn't it._ Maric thought, his grip tightening around the young black mage. He hadn't thought about it before, but an experience like that must've been terrifying, especially for someone that young. To think of life ending that abruptly, that quickly, and Shane himself seemed to have so much he wanted to do. Failure, with no-one to comfort you, no-one to help you to your feet again, no-one to wonder where you are if you don't come home at night. Not even a place to call home.

It was at that moment, that Maric felt a strange kind of bond to the young mage he held in his arms. Maybe it was out of pity, or maybe it was because he was a bleeding heart and wanted to help him with his burden, but whatever it was, it was strong. He bit his lip, and slowly entered the house.

The front door had no lock, so when Maric leaned up against the craggy wood it gave way instantly, and let out a soft moan and it slowly swung open, and made his way into the house with the mage in his arms to the bed room.

The house had originally been a one room cabin, in which the bedroom, kitchen, dining room and living room were all the same room, but a crop surplus on their part several years ago had left them with an abundance of gil. There had, in fact, been enough left over to give the farm an upgrade and still have enough to add onto the house. So two bedrooms were added, one for Maric and one for his parents, and although it was a small room it was better than sleeping in the same room as his parents. Of course, when his parents died the following year, the year that Maric was preparing to leave home, they had no longer needed to use the other room, but Maric had left it untouched in a sort of honor of their death.

Maric sat down on the floor, removing his cape, hat, and his rapier and sheath, and laid down on the floor,propping his head against one leg of the bed. The room was filled with darkness, complete darkness, and had Maric not been through it hundreds of times, he wouldn't have been able to find his way around at all. Now the room was completely silent, and Maric could feel himself nestling down against the bed post, exhaustion taking it's tole on him. He'd never felt this tired in his life, and literally felt like he'd been run over by thousands of soldiers, all suited and dressed for war. But just as he'd begun to drift off into a peaceful slumber, a voice, low, wispy, and seeming almost as exhausted as he felt, came from behind him, and he his head to see two small slits of light piercing the darkness.

"Maric, are you still awake?" The voice asked him.

Apparently Shane had awoken some time after he'd reached home. _Why couldn't you have come around earlier?_ Maric half moaned to himself, but nevertheless he was relieved that Shane was okay. There had been a good chance that he'd have found a dead mage in his bed in the morning, but now that he'd awoken, at least for this time, that told him that he wasn't as badly hurt as it had first appeared. Setting aside, of course, the fact that he had a huge gash in his left arm that desperately needed to be healed, he seemed to be fine.

"Yes, but I'd rather not be" Maric replied, but he concealed his annoyance enough to keep him from feeling uneasy about it. " You should really get to sleep, this day has been hard enough on you."

The yellow glow seemed to recede a little bit, but they didn't take their glare off Maric.

"Listen." Shane said again, in just barely a whisper. "I'm really sorry I... I've been such a burden, I know. I probably don't deserve this and..."

Maric cut him off with an exasperated sigh.

"Look, we've been through this. We're teammates, so we have to look after each other, and what's done is done." Maric said, this time letting his annoyance run through. "So do me a favor as get some rest. If you don't you're going to regret it."

"But I..." Shane began again, but Maric was quick to cut him off

"Please, Shane. Enough." Maric held up a hand, and the boy shrank a bit "You can beat yourself up all you want tomorrow, but for now we both need some rest."

With that, there was a defeated whimper from the corner where the bed was, and the glows disappeared.

Maric almost felt himself smiling, as the mage's breath slowly faded into an almost rhythmic pulse, and he could feel even himself slipping back into the world of rest. He really didn't know what would happen tomorrow, if he and Shane would track down the other two Light Warriors, if they would find them, and if they really were, as he'd said, teammates bound by destiny. It didn't matter to him if they were or weren't, he would play it up to be so anyway. What he was worried about was who the other light warriors were, and how they'd like being on the same team as a couple of mages.

 

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Out of the darkness, when the red mage beside him had long fallen into a deep state of slumber, a black mage sat, fully awake in the strange room he'd found himself in upon regaining consciousness. Of course, he had no ill intentions for the boy, he'd saved his life after all. In fact, being awake wasn't by his own will, he was extremely tired and weak, and would rather be sleeping right now, but the stabbing pains of guilt in his side wouldn't subside.

Feeling defeated, he sighed, and finally took the last course of action he could think of, a strategy for getting stabbing pains of guilt to leave him be that his father had taught him of many a year ago. To write out his feelings and stow them away on paper. He caught sight of a small desk in the corner of the room presently, and made his way over to it,trying not to stumble over the sleeping red mage.

A few pieces of parchment lay on the desk, as well as a feathered quill and an ink well, and taking the writing utensil, in his shaking left hand, and trying to use the faint light his eyes gave off to watch what he was writing, began to scribble words onto the paper.

**_Dear Wyatt,_ **

**_I really don't know why I'm writing this. Then again, if I knew why I did half of the things I do every day I'd surely go insane. Maybe I already have, but that's beside the point. I know you probably will never get to read this letter, as I'm pretty sure that dead people can't read, but I fear I should lose the small amount of sanity that I still possess if I don't do this._ **

**_At the present moment I am in the house of a 'red mage', as he calls himself, named Maric. I never caught his last name, but nevertheless he seems kind enough. You see, he is responsible for saving my life, and not only that, but also for retrieving your precious crystal and returning it to me. I wish I could do something in return for his acts of kindness, but I'm afraid I cannot linger here for long. It would put both of our lives in danger, and I'm not sure if I could live with myself knowing that he could be killed._ **

**_The problem is, that because of the similarities of the crystal I possess now, and the crystal he owns, he has dubbed us teammates for reasons that I cannot explain. He for some reason is determined to stay with me, and has already put his safety on the line for mine. I don't think he knows how much of a burden he is placing upon himself by insisting that he travels with me. Not only could he be arrested for being seen with me in public, but with my old comrades on my heels and desperate to permanently silence me about, well, matters that wouldn't be safe to put into writing, there is no place anywhere near here that is safe for us to go. If we were to be captured I doubt they'd think twice about killing us both._ **

**_I must flee from this town as fast as I can, with or without Maric. If I felt I could move three steps without collapsing right now then I would have run already, but unfortunately that is not so. I just hope we can get out of here before they catch up to us. That is probably wishful thinking, but the fact that they presently think I'm dead will probably slow them down. Or at least I hope so._ **

**_Sincerely,_ **

**_Shane_ **


	4. Now For Something Completely Different

Corneria was one of the largest kingdoms in the world for its time. It had always prospered, and even when it seemed to be as powerful and grand as it could be, new limits were discovered and Corneria's status went ever upwards. It was a kingdom in its prime, and for a time it seemed like the glorious days would never end. Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever, and although few people of Corneria realized it, their beloved kingdom had already begun to spiral downwards. It was a swift but terrifying descent, and one that the few who were aware of it knew would lead their glorious kingdom to hit rock bottom all too soon.

"The really distressing thing," A young man spoke, his voice filled with worry. " is that the king doesn't realize that this is happening. The kingdom is dying, farmers are yielding less and less crops, seasons have been getting dryer and dryer, and with the mages destroying villages everywhere it's not as if they have enough to spare. Talon, this is a crisis, and most of the nobles either don't know or don't care. How long do you think it will be before the people revolt?"

A second young man walked the streets beside him "I.. I really don’t know Stephon..." He sighed, sounding exasperated. "I agree with you that the king shouldn't be looking the other way, but seriously, how can you solve a problem like dry spells on farms? It's not as if we can't hold a revolt back. We have the strongest army in..."

"It's not how strong we are, Talon." Stephon sighed, running a hand through his hair, and he cast his stare to the ground. "If the people revolt, it wont matter who wins, either way we would be destroying ourselves from the inside. We're at war Talon! With Elves, no less. If you don't think that a civil war breaking out here would trigger an attack from their side..."

"I know Stephon..." Talon said again, but this time his voice was full of worry, his eyes reflecting his tone of voice. It was clear to both of them that the kingdom was on it's way to destruction, even if most had no idea this was happening.

Stephon and Talon were brothers of noble upbringing, and the sons of a man who was very close to the king. Stephon, the older of the two, was a fairly well built young man,at the age of 22, with golden blond hair that stuck out every which way in an untidy manner. He had blue eyes and was of normal height, and wore Iron plate armor that sported the Cornerian crest. A longsword hung on his belt that glinted in the sunlight as he walked.

The younger of the brothers, Talon, was 19 years old. He was quite a bit taller and broader than Stephon despite his age, and he had dark brown hair that fell to his ears, and steely grey eyes that were dark enough to scare away even the strongest of men. He, like Stephon, was also clad in iron plate armor with the Cornerian crest on it, and a broadsword hung at his side.

It was Stephon's involvement in political matters that had brought them to their position here in the first place. Despite the fact that the two of them were nobles, their father had insisted that they join the royal guard. It wasn't so much because he held regard for the position, more it was just a way to get them out of the way, and Stephon knew it well.

A few years prior, Stephon had begun to develop an interest in the kingdom. Much to their father, Lord Antoine's dismay Stephon had a nasty habit of speaking quite contrary to his word. Where Antoine preached of conservation, Stephon asked for expansion. Where Antoine rallied for tradition, Stephon wished for change, and much to the amusement of the king Stephon had a knack for winning the other nobles over. This had troubled their father greatly, for he knew if his son opposed his views too much the king might just begin to listen to him. Stephon needed to be kept out of the way, and signing him up to be a member of the Cornerian Guard seemed as fit a way as any.

It was for that reason that they had been wandering through the town that day, a small town on the outskirts of Corneria. Usually Lords like themselves couldn't be bothered to visit such a backwater town, but today things were different. It had been just recently learned that the town was also the home of quite a few mages, white, black and mixed,some of which were rumored to have a hand in the attacks that had been irrupting all over Corneria. Upon hearing this Stephon had been eager to begin the search for the mages, in hopes that driving the mages from this village, by any means, would help Corneria to begin to recover.

Stephon and Talon had begun the search only a few hours ago, and hadn't found many unusual things. It seemed to be a regular town, apart from a single magic shop they'd found, that turned out to only sell white magic spells anyway. The town was rumored to have a second shop that sold several black magic spells, but they hadn't come across such a shop yet during their search. However, even though their search had been brief up until this point, the lack of evidence that there had been any real activity going on there other than some farming and trading amongst merchants had already made the brothers impatient.

"This whole search is for naught." The younger brother groaned, as they made their way into the town square for the third time. "There are no black mages here! None! In fact, I'd say other than that kid who worked in the magic shop we found an hour ago, there are absolutely no mages in this whole forsaken village!"

It was clear to Stephon that Talon had lost his patience with the search, as he knew wouldn't take long due to his brother's impatient, hasty attitude and hunger for action. Even Stephon himself had lost hope in the search long before, even though they had only just begun, and it was quite clear to him that their father had just sent them to get them out of earshot when the court gathered to discuss issues breaking out all over Corneria. But despite his doubts, Stephon, was ready to continue the search until they'd scanned the entire town, in the hopes of flushing out one of the clans of black mages that had been plaguing the kingdom. Even if the castle hadn't intended for them to find anyone in the first place, the thought of finally being able to do some good for Corneria gave Stephon hope. The less mages there were in the world, the fewer problems they would have.

It was probably the wrong thing to do. Stephon knew they were lying to the crowds, and then sentencing many an innocent mage to death. Although it made the people of Corneria rest easier, it also made sleep come hard for Stephon. Seeing the blue cloaked men marching to their death, with only a handful of them guilty of the murders that had been held to their names mixed amongst the innocent. Today would be different though, today they could flush out the people who were really responsible for the burned villages and lost lives.

"Talon we've only just begun our search" Stephon finally replied. "Its going to take some time to flush them out. Mages are a clever lot. No-one said they'd be easy to find."

This only earned him an exasperated look from Talon.

"Well I've heard that it's usually not easy to find someone who doesn't exist." Talon grumbled, sitting down against the wall of a near by shop. "This whole deal is just another ploy to get us out of the way and you know it Steph, theres nothing here."

Stephon sighed and sat down next to his brother. _He's probably right_ He thought, defeated. _This whole search had been for nothing so far._

There was a tense silence between the two brothers. Stephon glanced at Talon for a moment, but his younger sibling was staring intently at the ground, as if trying to block out his older sibling. It was clear to him, that his brother was about as annoyed with him, as he was with the quest itself, and he knew quite well why. A few months prior, Stephon had received notice that he was to wed the princess of Corneria herself, Princess Sara. Somehow in spite of Stephon's utter bullheadedness, the king had chosen him among all the nobility in Corneria as the preferred suitor for his daughter's hand. This was startling news, not only for Stephon himself, but for Talon as well, not to mention their father.

Stephon sighed. The distance the arrangement had put between his brother and himself was intensely palpable. Stephon saw the jealous glances Talon would throw him in the days following, often wishing that it had been Talon who had been chosen to wed the princess instead of him. He did want to change the kingdom, but being king seemed to be too great a task for him. Still, he couldn't turn down King Leo's offers.

To make matters even worse, a few days ago, the princess had disappeared right out of the castle, as if into thin air, without leaving so much as a footprint behind. Though people later reported seeing a well dressed maiden, unconscious, being carried off by a dark, menacing figure, in blue plate armor, with a horned full-helm that covered his face completely. He rode on a horse as black as night, swiftly through the darkness. There had been three royal knights of the castle who pursued the dark figure, on horseback, but the black horse had been far too swift. But even so, the man stopped abruptly, and dismounted, the unconscious girl still held in one arm, and unsheathed his blue-white gleaming blade. The people who gave the reports told that the man swung his sword only once before all three men had fallen from their horses, dead. With that he promptly rode off in the light of the full moon, leaving the Cornerian people in awe.

Stephon shook his head _If the girl truly was princess Sara, then we'll never be able to get her back._ He thought, _No number of soldiers can get past a man like that._

It was truly a difficult situation, and here they were on a wild goose chase while so many other things needed to be dealt with. Even if they were to flush out the mages, it wouldn't make as much of a difference in the long run. As Talon said, the search was most likely for naught.

Stephon was deep in thought, thinking about all the issues that plagued Corneria, when a shout from Talon broke through his thoughts. He whipped around to see his brother, now standing with his sword drawn, posed threateningly at something. Stephon sprung to his feet. _A mage!_ His heart jumped _It must be a mage!_

Much to Stephons disappointment the person at the other end of Talon's sword, was not a black mage, or any type of mage at all for that matter. It was a girl, around 17 years old with untidy honey blond hair, which was pulled away from her face with a green bandanna. Her blue eyes were stricken with fear as she stared at Talon, seeming stuck to the spot. She wore a brown Tunic, tied around the middle with a leather belt, and in her hands was clutched a small, red velvet bag. A red velvet bag that happened to belong to Stephon.

 _That’s got father’s crystal._ Stephon gritted his teeth, _Gods, he’d have my head if I lost it. Of all the damned foul luck._

Looking over the girl again Stephon smirked a bit Perhaps their luck was bad, but the young thief girl’s would prove to be far worse it seemed. Stephon drew himself up to full height and drew his sword. He sneered at the small dagger clutched in the girl’s hand. This was going to be far too easy.

The girl glanced from Stephon to Talon a few times, her eyes wide with fear. Without warning she turned and took off in a sprint down one of the cobblestone paths, clutching the velvet bag as tightly as she could. Stephon followed suit with Talon not far behind, swords drawn, plowing past any by-standers that happened to be unlucky enough to be caught between the two brothers and the thief girl. However, although they made a good attempt to catch the girl as they ran off down the cobble stone road, their armor slowed them down immensely. The thief was quick on her feet to begin with, and only had the weight of her knife and the sack of coins she'd stolen to weigh her down. Stephon and Talon on the other hand were suited up in plate mail, chain mail, and had their swords as well. Their equipment would aid them in a fight, but it wasn't going to help them if they couldn't catch the person they wished to fight against.

As they chased after the girl, she only grew steadily farther and farther away, and soon the chase seemed to be for naught as well. Stephon gritted his teeth. He knew he couldn’t stop now. Not with father’s crystal in danger of being taken.

Finally the girl broke away from them altogether, and rounded a corner that led into an ally, with the two knights panting and gasping as they ran in an attempt to keep up with her, and as they rounded the corner themselves, they found that the girl had vanished right into thin air. She was completely gone.

"This way!" Talon cried, running straight ahead quite blindly.

Stephon followed him a few steps, and then stopped, and turned around as his brother's footsteps grew farther and farther away. _A thief has to be craftier than that._ He thought _Otherwise how could she make it as a thief at all?_ Stephon slowly crept back towards a pile of boxes that Talon had overlooked. It was an obvious hiding spot. Almost typical, and Stephon smirked as he neared the boxes, expecting to find the girl there, counting the gil she'd so cleverly stolen, just waiting to be discovered. Stephon slowly put a hand to one of the boxes and peeked around the corner, knowing almost exactly what he'd find. But when he did peer into the small hiding area the boxes provided, he found that it was bare. No-one was there.

Stephon frowned, looking around a bit. _If not there, then where could she be?_ He wondered, stepping a few paces away from the boxes. All at once he felt a presence behind him, and before he could spin around or unsheathe his sword a knife had found it's way to his neck. Stephon stood stiffly, feeling hot breathe against the back of his neck. A second hand made it's way around Stephon's middle, and a cold feminine voice whispered in his ear.

"Don't breathe a word, or it will be the last thing you do." The voice said threateningly, and the knife came closer to his neck.

Stephon silently complied with to the voice's wishes, not really having much of a choice to begin with. Silently he cursed his luck yet again. His brother had run off, and probably wasn't going to come back for him just yet, and when he did it might be too late. Until he knew what the thief girl wanted there was nothing he could do to escape.

"You're one of those nobles aren't you?" The voice sneered. "One of the people running this joint that hasn't the faintest idea as to what is really going on. So blissfully unaware. It's unfortunate we all couldn't be that way."

Stephon cringed as the knife cut in a bit closer to his neck. "Wh-what do you want me for?" He finally managed to regain his voice and choke out his question.

"I said shut your trap, or the knife does the talking, understand?" The voice growled. "But to answer your question, lets just say a little noble here is going to fetch me a pretty gil, you get me?"

A ransom. The girl was going to hold him for a ransom. _At least that's cleared up..._ Stephon groaned to himself. _Talon will be back soon enough, but until then I have to make sure this girl doesn't cut my neck open._

"Listen..." Stephon interjected after a brief moment of silence. "If it's money your after I can give you all the gil you'll ever need. Just let me go, and give me the bag back."

The girl's grip on Stephon relaxed slightly, the knife slipping down about an inch on his neck, but nevertheless it would still be near to impossible to break out of her grip and get away with his life. Even if he could just get his captor into a small conversation, he would be able to easily break free of her grasp.

"Your offer is tempting," The thief said finally, tightening her grip again on her captive. "but I can't just take your word for it now can I? If I let you go, you could easily attack me couldn't you? Then I'd be at your mercy instead of you at mine. And if I gave you the bag, the only thing that guaranteed the fact that I would receive gil in the first place, you could easily make a run for it. Come now noble, you don't think I'm that naïve now do you?"

"Can't you see I'm trying to make peace?” Stephon growled. He gritted his teeth, “Listen, this could end very badly for you if you allow this to continue. You want gold, and I don't want my neck cut. We have a set of mutual interests.”

“Mutual interests?' the theif girl laughed, “Not just a Noble but a comic as well. You, _do_ know what they say about comic relief, right?”

Stephon bit his lip. So long as the girl kept talking he would live, but he didn't quite feel comfortable with the topic of discussion being his imminent demise.

“I don't think I've much to fear from a henchman like yourself.” Stephon shot back, “Perhaps you should have chosen a better role. One that suits a nice girl like you.”

"You think I chose this way of life that I live?" She growled. " Do you think that I wouldn't rather live a quiet life with the siblings I left behind all those years ago. Mark my words noble I didn't chose to become a thief. Fate chose me, and so this is where I am."

At this Stephon was silent. It was true, he had been branding them as all cunning sly tricksters who's joy lay only in stealing away the wealth of others for themselves. But the thought of people being forced to live that kind of life, put a new twist on things. Maybe the kingdom way decaying at a more rapid pace than he'd imagined, that from the inside, people who would once be working class farmers, merchants and fishermen were being transformed into thieves and beggars who lived in poverty. And without the workers to hold them up, the upper class would come crashing down. They wouldn't need to revolt. They wouldn't need the attacks of elves to speed up the process. They wouldn't need the mage attacks to do any more damage. On its own, Corneria had already begun the plummet to it's demise, as the last few beams that supported them began to give way.

“You're right.” Stephon said at last, his voice growing quiet.

“What's that?” the girl blinked.

“I mean, you're right that it isn't your fault you're in this situation.” Stephon said at last, “I'm sure you didn't choose to be a thief. It's a terrible thing to be lowered to such a life of crime, and I'm sorry.”

The girl growled, “Don't think you're going to win me over by groveling.” she snarled, “I know your kind.”

“Do you?” Stephon smirked. At once he grabbed the girl's arm and twisted her hand away from his neck, drawing his sword with the other. In a flash of steel he had his longsword aimed at the girl's throat, freed at last.

"What?" She gasped upon realizing that her captive had escaped.. She looked from Stephon to the sword pointed at her with a look of shock on her face, before regaining her composure, "Slippery little devil aren't you?"

Stephon only smirked, staring triumphantly at her. He recognized her almost immediately as the thief that had stolen his father's crystal. Unfortunately the moment didn't last long. After only seconds he felt a presence behind him. A second thief, clad in similar garb to that of the girl, only with brunette hair and slightly darker skin had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She was cracking her knuckles menacingly.

Soon he realized, that there weren't two thieves, but three, and then four, and then five. In fact, it was a whole gang of them, all of which were female. They were quite literally coming out of the woodwork, until they surrounded the single knight, knives pointed to him threateningly.

Through this crowd, came one woman who looked quite a bit older than the rest of them, maybe in her late twenties, with black beautiful hair, tanned skin and an intoxicating smile, holding a knife made of mithril.

She strode up to Stephon, with a lilt in her step and a smirk on her face.

"Well now, what do we have here?" The woman asked. Her voice was smooth and cool, and nearly made Stephon shiver. At length she glanced back at the young blond girl who had once held him at knife point " Very good Celeste, you are dismissed."

Celeste nodded and fled back through the group, leaving Stephon with the black haired woman.

"So, we've caught ourselves a noble." She purred, walking slowly around him, and smiling devilishly. "So what do we do with him? Celeste's idea of a ransom would do nicely... but, then again what's the fun in that?" And she draped two slender arms tenderly around Stephon's neck, causing him to shiver. The woman herself was pretty, he'd give her that much, but her presence gave him an uneasy feeling. "So, what do we do with him?"

A low murmur had begun in the crowd of thieves, contemplating what would be done with their captive noble.

"We could keep him here until he cracks." The brunette finally piped up.

"Let's kill him now and strip him of his goods" Another blond suggested, and Stephon felt another chill run down his spine, practically praying that his brother would show up.

"Oh come now" A third protested, this one with red hair. "Lets just strip him of his goods and let him go!"

"No way" A fourth shouted through the crowd. "He'd come back with the royal guard and we'd all be hung!"

"How about we hang him and see how he likes it!" A fifth rang out, and a cheer was emitted from the crowd.

"We don't have enough rope though.. why don't we just burn him?" The fourth suggested, and the murmurs of the crowd had by now become an incredible din. Each thief girl seemed to have some brilliantly wicked idea of what to do with Stephon. The ideas ranged from the Elven water torture, to demanding a ransom of insane prices, and all other manner of awful acts. All of them seemed horrible, but none of them seemed like they were willing to let him go in the end.

"Ladies!" The dark haired woman in the middle of the circle shouted over the din, which almost immediately ceased. "For the present moment he should remain alive.” a sneer grew upon the woman's lips, “If my eyes don't mislead me, this is no ordinary noble, but Lord Stephon Carris, Princess Sarah's dearly betrothed.” There was a gasp from the crowd, and Stephon's heart sank, “Lets cut off an ear and send it back to the poor dear. That ought to get the king riled enough. We'll have the world for this boy if we wish it!”

The crowd's reaction seemed to confirm the action, as a multitude of cheers came from the crowd of thieves. Stephon felt his heart sink as the thieves celebrated. _Maybe I should have followed Talon... or at least told him to follow me. Then maybe I'd have a chance._ He thought sadly, as the crowd continued to cheer. But then, over the cheers of the crowd, a voice, calling his name rang out.

"Hey Stephon! Is that you there?"

“Talon!” Stephon's heart soared. Never before had he been so glad to hear his brother's voice.

The whole crowd of thieves turned to face Talon now, even the dark haired woman who almost dropped her mithril knife upon hearing him. The cruel confidence on her face melted away into pure horror. They were caught.

Along with Talon a small group of soldiers had gathered. It seemed his brother had gathered every guard in the area that he could find in order to launch his counter offensive, and not a moment too soon. The leader of the thieves backed away, quite cut down to size as soldier after soldier joined the fray.

A grin grew along Stephon's face, “Well then.” he chuckled, “It seems the tables have turned.”

“You bastard...” the thiefess growled, drawing her knife hastily and pointing it at Stephon, “You'll pay for this with your life, you damned noble bastards!”

By the time the thief woman had time to turn, the rest of the soldiers had turned on the small gang, swords flashing as they prepared to cut them down. What Stephon hadn't expected was for the thieves to attack back with the same amount of force. Chaos irrupted in minutes, and Stephon found himself completely lost. He'd managed to keep an eye on the leader of the thieves for maybe a minute before she was gone, and the rest of the girls continued in their place, seeming to duck in and out of reality as they chose. The knights were better armored, but at the very least the thief girls were stealthy and ready to win their fight.

Through the crowd, past all the pandemonium of women, and soldiers, Stephon caught, out of the corner of his eye, one girl who hadn't lingered in the battle, and had already begun to run out of the alley way which would lead to the town square. _Celeste_ He remembered the name that the dark haired woman had called her, _She's the one with my... our crystal._ He gritted his teeth, _Not on my watch._

At once Stephon broke into a run pushing his way through past thief and swords man alike in pursuit of the thief girl. She wouldn't escape him, not now. Not after all the trouble she'd caused.

"H-hey wait!" The voice of Talon cried breathlessly from the crowd. "Stephon! Where are you...?"

Stephon gave no reply to his brother, not wanting to lost precious seconds as the thief girl grew farther and farther away. Footsteps behind him and the slight sound of armor rubbing together with a slight metallic sound told him that his brother had run after him, but he had no time to look back as he rounded another corner into the town square.

From there the girl dashed off towards a path that would lead to the entrance of the Great

Forest of Corneria if he followed it any longer. But quickly glancing around, he spotted a way across a field that would take him to the same path. _If I can get up there fast enough I can head her off._ He thought and quickly redirected his path down through the field.

"Stephon.. what are you... wait up for a second!" A slightly distressed and exhausted Talon cried from behind again, and soon the footsteps had stopped.

Stephon, of course, made no attempt to stop for his brother, only running faster as he saw the girl beginning to round the corner. Just as he began to think that he could run no more, he burst onto the path, right behind Celeste now, and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards him and holding her to his chest brought his sword to her neck.

The thief girl tensed, becoming stiff and rigid as the cold metal rested against her flesh.

"Give me the bag" Stephon demanded, tightening his hold slightly.

The girl slowly reached down to her waist, and carefully reached for the bag. Stephon watched her hand carefully, seeing it draw near to her knife. It hovered there for a moment, as if she was contemplating weather to use it or not, but as Stephon pressed the blade of his sword closer to her neck, her hand flinched away, and grabbed the small velvet bag.

Stephon snatched the precious bag away from her as soon as she revealed it, not wanting the precious stone it contained to be in the clutches of a greedy thief girl like her.

By then, Talon had caught up to the two, panting hard, and just about able to draw his sword.

"So now." Stephon said in a mocking voice. "What do we do with our captive thief girl hmm?"

He smirked as the girl gave a small whimper, and seemed to shrink back in fear. And for a second, Stephon felt almost sorry for her, but he soon shook the feeling off. _She tried to kill me._ He reminded himself. _She stole from us, and then tried to kill me, and seemed to enjoy it too. She deserves more than this, and that she will get._

"Should we hang her?" He asked, his smirk growing wider. " Or maybe just burn her at the stake."

For a second it struck Stephon as odd that his brother hadn't joined in tormenting the girl as well, but he couldn't be bothered with that. He brought his head down close to Celeste's ear, and now began to whisper to her.

"Of course.. we could just strip her of all valuables and let her go... but then what's the fun in that?" He went on. "I say we burn her.. what do you think Talon?"

"Let me go..." The Celeste hissed through her teeth. "I gave you your damned bag back, so let me go."

"Would you have let me go?" Stephon asked, his voice deathly calm. Celeste's silence spoke volumes, “I didn't think so."

"H-hey.. Stephon?" Talon's voice interrupted Stephon's train of thought. Stephon frowned, lowering his sword just a bit. Talon sounded unusual, his voice strangely soft, and tense.

"I-I think I just found the mage we we're looking for." Talon said in a wary, quiet, tone, not even turning to face his brother. Stephon felt the blood drain from his face. _It.. it's here? Now?_ He thought, a shiver running down his spine, but he soon shook off the feeling. _What are you so afraid of?_ He scolded himself. _This is it. This is what you've been waiting for! No use in getting scared now. Compose yourself, Stephon!_

Stephon, however, knew full well the battle awaiting him would be difficult. As his arms fell to his side the thief girl wrenched herself away and sprinted towards the city again. Stephon payed her no mind. Now there was something more important, more deadly than petty thieves and pick pockets. This would prove a new sort of challenge. A challenge, that both he and Talon knew full well might cost them their lives.

 


	5. Reminiscing, Flashbacks, and Even More MAgic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was.. a long time coming. Mainly because I'm a touch lazy. A lot lazy. I decided to redo a LOT of this chapter. It added in a scene, and snipped out some things, but almost ALL of the dialogue and narration in this chapter has been redone. Thanks to all people who left Kudos, you're beautiful people, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading. I swear this stuff gets better eventually.

_Shane could feel his heart pounding frantically against his ribs. He wasn't sure how long he'd run, or how much longer he would need to keep going, but he knew well that stopping even for a moment would mean his utter demise._

_He couldn't believe that he'd been outed, betrayed by one of his own. He'd known well enough that Clayton wouldn't approve of his attempts to leave. Clayton Vartle, his former master and leader of the Brotherhood of Black Art, always stayed steadfast in his decrees, and Shane knew full well that those who joined the Brotherhood were to stay in the Brotherhood. Still, Shane had thought he had a chance, even just the slightest chance to escape during the night. He hadn't expected to be pursued so relentlessly._

_Over tree trunks and through brush and brambles he ran, carrying on for what felt like hours, until his breath wheezed in his chest and his legs felt like they would turn to mush. Still, he had no choice but to continue. Stopping would mean being caught, and being caught would likely mean... Shane didn't want to think about what failure would mean. His focus had to be on escaping, nothing else. Spells whizzed past his head now, lightning and fire sent after him in an attempt to make him halt. At last a spire of lightning struck just before him, sending him stumbling back. He heard feet rushing forward._

No... No!!

_Shane closed his eyes, but by now it was too late. A pair of arms grabbed him from behind holding him back as a black mage stared down at him, his face unreadable behind a shadow of black. Was this the way the world always saw them? Perhaps it was no small wonder they were regarded as monsters._

  
  


“ _Do you have any last words, Shane Tellerman?”_

  
  


“Please! No!” With a shout, Shane was jolted from his world of sleep. His entire body lurched forward, toppling the chair he'd been seated at forwards, and sending him, and the desk full of papers he'd been seated at careening towards the floor. He hit the ground with a yelp, and immediately a jolt of pain shot through the entirety of his left arm. He hissed, curling into a small ball on the floor. Whatever happened to him last night must have done a number on him. Everything hurt. Why did everything hurt?

Shane blinked a few times, pushing himself off the floor once he finally mustered the strength to move again. He couldn't for the life of him remember what had happened last night. He looked around blearily, surveying his surroundings cautiously. The room he found himself in now was incredibly small, a bed was in one corner, and took up most of the room, it's bed sheets crumpled in a heap at its foot. In the remaining space assorted weapons were strewn across the floor. Most of them had become useless and dull, and lay amongst broken, wooden shields, and old staffs that had never seemed to be used by their owner.

Turning his attention back to the writing desk he realized at once that he'd already managed to nearly ruin it. The ink well that had been atop the desk had shattered upon hitting the ground, splattering most of the parchment with black, watery ink. Shane backed away. Had _he_ done this? Surely he was the only person around, but this certainly wasn't his room, or his house. He could barely remember the last time he'd fallen asleep in an actual bed, back years ago before the Brotherhood, before everything had been lost.

"How.. did.. I.. end up here?" Shane wondered out loud, his own voice seeming foreign to him. He looked around one last time. Slowly there were details of the past night's events that were coming back to him. He remembered trying to leave his old allies, the Brotherhood of Black Arts. They tried to kill him, and were likely still after him this very moment, but beyond that his head just pounded. His mind was blank. _This is bad, isn't it?_ He thought, panic beginning to prick at him. _Why can't I remember? Am I under some sort of spell._ He paled, suddenly fearing the worst, _Perhaps I've been taken hostage. Kidnapped. Perhaps whoever did this is coming back to do away with me any second now..._ _No! That can't happen._

Shane rose once more, looking around. He didn't seem to be locked in at all, but perhaps things were worse than they seemed. If his captor was malicious enough, perhaps he'd anticipated that Shane would be too weak to escape when he awoke. Perhaps he wanted to see him struggle.

_I have to get out of here._ He thought, frantically rising from the ground. _I don't care if I'm unwanted. I don't care that my team mates want me dead. I'll change my name, my identity, I'll shed my magic and my identity as a mage. I don't want to die. I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. I-_

The moment Shane went to stand another jolt of pain wracked his body, sending him again to the dirt floor amid the scattered parchment. He lay there trembling, both with fear and with pain. _What am I going to do?_ He groaned softly as he pushed himself up on his right arm. He gingerly turned his left arm over. There was a strange, tingling feeling in his fingertips, along with the incessant smarting that ran through his entire forearm. He feared the worst. His left hand was his dominant hand, after all, the one he used to fight, but for now he could barely even move his fingers.

 _This is bad, isn't it?_ He winced when he saw the gash in his arm. Nerves and tendons alike had been severed. It was likely he would never use it again. _I can barely move, I can't remember where I am or why I'm here. I don't even know who I'm at the mercy of, and now I can't even defend myself._ A sinking feeling settled at the pit of his stomach. Escaping the Brotherhood really hadn't done him any good at all. Perhaps it would have been better off for him if he'd stayed. Running away wouldn't stop the murders, it wouldn't stop them from killing, and for as much as it churned Shane's stomach now, at least he'd been good at that.

  
  


He touched the small wooden handle of his signature weapon gingerly with his right hand, and slid it out slowly from beneath his cloaks. He gazed into the iron blade, reflecting the sunlight's glare in an almost cold manner. It reflected the past with that glare. How he'd transformed skilled knifeplay into merciless slaughter almost instantly. That was what it had been. Slaughter. The murder of the innocent, although then they hadn't been innocent in his eyes.

For the longest time, he'd thought it was their fault. That that was why his father died, and it was that rage that had fueled him to do those horrendous acts. By the time he realized what was really going on, it was too late. The lives couldn't be recovered, and he knew he'd always carry that weight in his heart.

 _Tori told me not to think about it. Maybe she was right._ The name of the girl he'd always cared too much about burst into his mind as it had so many times before. _I shouldn't have let myself think about it. Being here isn't going to change anything. I'm still going to die here. In the end, all I've done is brought about another death. I haven't done anything for anyone._

  
  


And he sighed for a moment, letting her fair features fill his mind. Long black, lanky hair that was almost always tied in a ponytail that ran down her back, slate gray eyes that always held some kind of humor in them, and a really gorgeous smile. Shane had really been one of the only people to see her truly, as her face, like his own, was always hidden beneath a tall steepled hat, but he always knew how lucky he'dbeen to know. It seemed like forever since he had last saw her, although in reality, it had probably been less than twenty-four hours ago that he'd last seen her.

In less than twenty-four hours, his life had turned upside down, and back, and after a whirlwind of events that had happened in a heart beat, he was left to somehow turn up here. Now came the time to try to reorient himself with his surroundings, and try to pick himself up and start from where he left off. Just as he'd always been told, and just as he'd always supposed he'd wind up doing in a situation like this. _Easier said than done I suppose._ He mused.

He looked around the room again. He could easily escape through the door, but he was just as easily be caught and possibly killed. There was, however, a window at the end of the room, letting in a stream of light. There was a chance, that if he could get out of the room through the open window he could easily escape. A new hope lit up inside the black mage as he stared out the window, the chance to cheat death a second time.

Shane slowly reached up for the writing desk a second time, now feeling a bit stronger, and pulled himself up, using it as a support. Of course, this came with quite a bit of difficulty at first, but once his limbs stopped screaming in protest, he eventually was able to get a grasp on staying upright.

 _Less than twenty-four hours brought me here._ He thought. _All I need to do is get out of here before whoever it is that brought me here comes back. Once I'm free, I'll be able to sort everything else out. It shouldn't be hard._

He looked once more around the room. There had to be something, anything that could help him to escape. The window at the back of the room was open, and just about big enough to climb out of, but it was far too high up for him to scale it in the state he was in. If there was something he could use to gain some height or use for leverage there was a chance of getting out.

All at once, the sound of footsteps made him freeze in his tracks, Footsteps, soft and light, just barely audible from behind the door, but slowly becoming louder and nearer. Shane's heart leaped into his throat, and an adrenaline rush pushed him to his feet, knife still in his hand, trembling in fear. _No, no not yet!_ His breath caught in his throat, _Please no. I need more time._

He stepped back a few paces from the door as the footsteps grew ever nearer, clutching his only weapon stiffly in his hand, his eyes wide with fear, dreading what would happen when the door opened. He would have liked nothing more than to flee at that moment, to get out of there, and for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, cheat death, but he was frozen to the spot, unable to move, just standing there helplessly, clutching his knife in his hand stiffly, wondering if he'd ever be able to use it.

The footsteps stopped abruptly, and the door swung open almost casually, and Shane never took his eyes off the door. A young man, dressed all in red, including his hat and cape, stepped into the room, almost tentatively and almost jumped back when he saw the black mage there.

The young man had pure white hair, despite his youthful face, and gray-green eyes that were for the moment full of shock, but the thing that stood out to Shane the most in that moment of time, was the rapier that hung on his belt. He felt his heart sink. Why else would he have a weapon like that but to do away with his injured captives? Shane could feel the seconds of his life ticking away.

Shane panicked at that moment, flinching backwards as soon as he saw the door open, and the man stepped into the room and he took no time to assess the situation. There was only one thought that lingered in his mind now. _I have got to get out of here._ He gripped the knife tightly in his hand, knowing there was only one clear option, one way out. And it was dangerous, but it was the only way that guaranteed escape.

Unfortunately that was the only thing it guaranteed.

For a second a name flickered into his mind. _Maric._ He could connect it to the face of the young man, and a voice, Maric's voice, asking him casual questions in a frantic voice. The man who had saved his life, and as he made his move, he realized it had been yet another terrible mistake. He ran past the man, darting from the house, never looking back, but as he did his heart squeezed.

_I'm sorry._ He bit back the words as he ran from the house.  _I'm so, so sorry._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\/

Everything happened so quickly in those three seconds, that Maric was left for almost a minute longer trying to assess what had just happened. Blood dripped down his shoulder, darkening the already bright red fabric of his clothes, and an almost blinding pain had engulfed his entire arm. He dropped to his knees. Betrayed. Of course he'd been betrayed. It was all starting to become clear now.

A knife clattered to the ground, still freshly coated in shimmering blood. It had been held only seconds ago in the hands of the mage that he'd saved the life of; that he had brought into his home, and used his own magic to heal the wounds of.

Only hours ago the very same mage had been apologizing for being a burden, had tried several times to refuse his help altogether. That same mage had told him of his father, how he'd wanted to follow in the footsteps of the wizard who's life had been cut short. That same mage had pledged him his life. That same mage had lunged at him, knife in hand, and had made a stab at him before running out the front door as fast as he could, leaving Maric stunned. All that time, was it possible that for all that time the boy had been lying?

 _Of course it's possible._ He answered himself, slamming his fist into the ground. _I've been a fool. Uncle Rachen always told me I was too soft. I'd have taken in any man and his brother with a sob story, and the word 'murderer' engraved in his forehead. Gods, how could I have been so foolish?_

He sighed, blocking out reality for just a moment and casting a quick cure spell on himself, to heal the wound the mage had given him, and got to his feet. He look through the now open door of his room, and stared out where the mage had run. Now that he was free, Maric feared the worst. That mage was likely planning to gather again with his comrades as they spoke. They would make quick work of Maric's village, and soon, all of Corneria as well.

 _Maybe it's something else._ Another voice pleaded inside of him. _Maybe his intentions aren't to cause harm._ He shook his head. There was no time to second guess himself. A black mage was still a black mage, no matter how young. Even just a single mage could spell doom for entire towns. _Rachen will know what to do. I have to find him._

He took off in a sprint towards the front door of his cabin, and emerged from the hut into the bright sunlight on the grass covered hill. Though he could see a good portion of the town from there, the mage was no-where in sight. Slowly his hopes began to sink even further than they had been. He'd lost the mage, and didn't know where he was going. For all Maric knew, he could have escaped already.

As Maric moved to start down the hill, a voice from below caught his attention.

  
  


"H-hey Stephon, I-I think I've just found the mage we were looking for."

  
  


Maric froze. As he looked down the hill he could see two members of the Cornerian guard starting up the hill toward him. One was large and stocky with brown hair, and the other was of lighter complexion, with blond hair and a slighter build. _They spotted him. Thank the gods, maybe there's hope for catching him after all._ Maric sighed in relief. The feeling didn't last long, however, as he noticed the two knights making their way up the hill towards him.

  
  


_They are looking for that boy, Shane, right?_ He asked himself. _Or are they looking for me?_ It wasn't exactly a well known fact that he knew how to cast magic, but he was noted as one of the more odd people in town. Rumors spread fast, and he knew that people often would talk about him, and give him shifty looks as he passed. _They... people don't take me... as a threat to society. Do they?_ He shivered involuntarily, thinking of the mages again, of Shane and his father, of his Uncle, Rachen. The law wasn't known to discriminate, but did that mean he could be mistaken as a criminal as well? Surely he wasn't grouped in with the bloodthirsty ranks of the Black Mages.

 _Just be calm, surely this is some sort of mistake._ He instructed himself, and tried as hard as he could to look less terror stricken. _I'm not like the mages that kill and loot and burn. They know that. I know that._

"E-excuse me, sirs? Is.. is there a problem here" He stammered as he called down to them as they advanced, his throat suddenly dry.

"We've spotted a black mage in this area." The blond haired man called back. "We are here to take him into custody.” the two of them approached Maric swiftly. They were tall, rather imposing, and they dwarfed the red mage quite easily.

“You look like a well informed, fellow.” the taller, broader of the two laughed. He had a strange, self assured smile on his face as he sauntered towards Maric, “We've heard there's been a lot of mage activity in this area of late, but we've seen almost none up until now. You wouldn't happen to know of any others who might be hiding out here, would you?”

Maric paled. There was a strange, knowing look in the man's eye, something intimidating that Maric couldn't quite place. Immediately he thought of his uncle, the large jolly mage who ran an underground magic shop, far out of reach of the public eye. Surely these knights couldn't be searching for him, could they?

“No sir.” Maric shook his head, his voice just a touch more nervous than he would have liked, “Th-there was a mage just here I spotted, I don't know of anyone else.”

The brunette haired man's gaze lingered on Maric just a few moments longer than he would have liked. At length he nodded.

“One mage caught is enough for today, Talon.” the smaller, light haired young man sighed after a minute, “Thank you from your help. You can be on your way.”

 _._ He nodded to the officers and turned to leave, slowly walking back to his little hut at the top of the hill. He oddly felt almost relieved to be done with the mage, relieved but still just a touch melancholy. Now that the ordeal was over, he wouldn't have to worry about either his welfare or Shane's, but somehow, he couldn't say if that was really what he wanted.

He couldn't explain it, why he would feel like that about someone who'd only minutes earlier made an attempt on his life. The bond he'd felt to the mage the night before had returned. In fact, it had never left. He was attached to him, and the thought of the mage's death was almost devastating. _He was supposed to be a light warrior._ Maric thought, his lips pursing,I _was supposed to be a light warrior. I could have sworn that I felt it, a kind of bond connecting two lost souls that all of Gaia needed to find each other. I guess I had put all my hopes for the future into that notion. The notion of four light warriors to save the world from darkness. Our planet is slowly dying under us, I know it, and... there really isn't anything we can do about it. In reality, there never was._

Before he realized it he was back in his hut, headed for his room. He only then realized that he'd been in a daze, over a matter so insignificant. _Mages die all the time._ He assured himself half heartedly. _He was a criminal, so he got what was coming for him, and all the mages like him. It's not like I could have helped him,he was an outcast and a misfit._

He entered the small room at the back of the hut, and still lost in though. The room was a mess. Ink and papers scattered the floor, and the small inkwell he'd had atop his desk had fallen and shattered. He sighed, stooping to pick them up, hoping that one he'd cleaned up the mage's mess he'd be able to forget about him. A vague feeling of guilt pricked at him as he went through the small pile, sorting out torn and ink soaked pieces of parchment from what might have been salvageable still. _He was still a child._ He thought, suddenly feeling horrible about himself. _Maybe frightened, maybe just confused, maybe angry at me, but none the less, his eyes held no malice, and I'm inclined to think his heart was the same._

As Maric worked he only felt more and more guilty, flooded with the pain of thinking on the adolescent mage, the way he'd seemed so innocent, and so determined to show Maric that he meant no harm. It could have been an act, but Maric wasn't so sure.

At length Maric's hand brushed a paper quite different from the others. At first glance it seemed to be simply covered in ink, but upon further inspection, Maric found that it was in fact covered with writing. _What the devil?_ Maric stood immediately, grabbing the piece of parchment and turning it over.

It was in fact, a letter, written in rushed, shaky, cursive, in dark black ink. The words had run together in several places, marring it's legibility, but it was still readable none the less. _Strange..._ Maric frowned, looking the page over, _I didn't write this. Who_ _could have possibly..._ he never even got the chance to finish the thought before a name popped into his head. _Shane!_

He scanned the page quickly, a cold feeling suddenly slithering down his spine as he did. He wasn't much of a reader, his skills rusty at best, but he knew as much as Rachen had taught him in his training, learning out of spellbooks and scrolls. It still didn't amount to much, but he was better than most.

Though he didn't read through the whole letter, he read enough to get the jist of it. Apparently, Shane had managed to awaken in the middle of the night and had written a letter to his deceased father, Wyatt. According to what Maric could understand of it, he was planning to flee from the town as soon as the morning broke. It was a strange letter, riddled with uncertain terms. He spoke of former allies, of someone being after him, of escape.

 _So I was right._ Maric thought as he let the piece of parchment fall to the floor, feeling almost breathless. _He was running from someone who had made an attempt on his life. And what I had thought was an attempt to kill me was really an attempt to escape, and protect the both of us._

He turned to the door, his eyes widened in horror. _And I've just condemned him to death._

Casting one last nervous glance to the letter, Maric turned, running as quickly as possible out the door, out of the hut, and down the hill. The two guards were still visible from there, struggling to subdue the now thoroughly terror stricken black mage, who was struggling feebly against their grip.

“Wait! Wait!” Maric shouted as he burst from the house, “There's been a mistake, he's not a criminal!”

The two soldiers barely looked up at Maric as he approached, focused on subduing the struggling mage. One of the soldiers had his sword raised, ready to strike the boy down where he stood.

“Wait! Stop!”Maric shouted, dashing towards them, “He's innocent! Don't!”

“No man who practices magic like _that_ is innocent in the eyes of Corneria.” the blonde replied at last, his words venomous, “He'll get just what he deserves, a swift, painful demise for all he's done. The same end all mages will one day meet.”

“Maric!” Shane's voice sounded shrill, panicked as he struggled against his captor's grip, “I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I didn't know! Don't let them do this! Please! Maric!”

Maric's breath caught in his chest. They were going to kill him. At this rate, the boy wouldn't even make it to the castle dungeons, he was liable to be killed right where they stood. Maric felt his face go white with rage, hand flying to his rapier. It was true, he didn't know this boy's history, nor did he know if he truly was innocent or not, but the act of killing a child in cold blood without a shred of mercy or decency. That wasn't justice. It wasn't for the good of anyone. It was just wrong.

“ _Fire!”_

Before he could stop himself, the red mage thrust out his hand, aiming for the two soldiers. Red and golden plumes of magical fire, licked up as soon as the word was uttered, burning bright and wild, just inches away from where the two stood .Both of the men jumped back in surprise, dropping their captive as they did. They turned, swords suddenly poised to strike, and Maric retreated, scrambling to draw his own blade. It shook in his hands. Never had he dared to fight with another man before, much less a soldier of Corneria, and here he stood facing off against two. _You'd better thank me for this later, black mage._ He thought bitterly

With a cry Maric lunged at the two soldiers and met the two swords dead on. The dark haired man flinched back on the impact, but the blond only lunged at him again, giving Maric only just enough time to raise the guard of his sword to meet the blow. By then the dark haired man was ready to strike, swinging his broadsword. Maric flinched, only just managing to catch the sword against his own. He shivered, tremors running through his body as the resounding clang of metal on metal rang through the air. He saw the blonde getting ready to strike again, but he was cornered, worse, petrified.

He paled, his world beginning to spin for a moment. _I've lost._ He thought. _This is really it, I'm about to die._ Now all there was to do was to brace himself for the end, and the blade of his foe's sword was raised. But for how ever long he'd waited for it, the end never came. " _Sleep_ " Came the half whispered word from a familiar voice. The two men stopped dead, and dropped their weapons, and Maric spun around, and was only half surprised when she saw Shane, almost directly behind him, arms still outstretched, staring at him, looking almost bewildered himself.

The two men hit the ground with a soft thud, Maric slowly allowed his shaking arms to fall to his sides. Shane took a step towards him, looking quite shaken himself, his small hands visible trembling as he brought them down to his sides.

“You...” he whispered, staring at Maric, “You really...”

Maric shook himself walking towards the mage, taking his hand.

"Come on.” he urged him, “We can't stay here. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

The boy nodded, his eyes never leaving Maric, as if in mute reverence. The two sped down the hill towards the town without another word.

  
  


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"I-I think I just found the mage we're looking for!"The dark haired man, Talon, stuttered to his brother, wide eyed and pale.

 _Mage?_ The word echoed in the mind of the thief ominously, and she was almost sure her face turned white. _There are black mages here? In the village?_ The thought was almost more than she could bare. There was scarcely anything worse, anything more vile and deadly than mages. For the longest time, Celeste had thought they'd all been killed.

 _No._ She told herself. _I must have misheard. It can't be. It couldn't be..._

She shook herself of the thought. It hardly mattered. This was her chance to escape. Without another thought she slipped from her captor's grip and darted back down the dirt road. She had never been so happy to be empty handed. Never to happy to be free, to be alive. 

Town came back into view faster than Celeste had imagined it would. The moment it did her pace slowed, guilt suddenly gripping at her stomach. _I really messed up back there... didn't I?_ She bit her lip, hands clenching and clenching a few times.

 _This is bad... this is really bad._ She bit her lip, sinking slowly into the shadows as she reentered the teeming crowds of Corneria. _It wasn't supposed to go that sour. I've made such a mess of things now. How can I possibly go back_ _. Is there even anything to go back to._ Turning back into an alley she could see the theives hideout coming at last into view. She didn't know how she could face her allies now, how she could dare to go back to them after all she'd done. It was her fault. All of it was her fault.

Celeste had only truly been a thief for a few years, and it wasn't at all by choice. Only a few years before, as a fourteen year old girl, barely more than a child, she'd been stripped of her life in Pravoka, wedded to a man living leagues away in the Kingdom of Corneria, and sent away to be the bride of a man twice her age. The man's career in the mythril mines had left him dirty, irritable, and quite unstable. It also left him dead after only a few months of marriage. At the tender age of fourteen, Celeste was both a wife and a widow with no children to show of it. Such a disaster of a life, no doubt, had nowhere to turn but to a life of crime.

It was in that predicament, cold, alone, and still in shock over her husband's death, that she had been taken in by the gang of thieves, when she basically had begged for their support. They found her, cold, nearly frozen to death in the streets, and took her in when no one else would. She was given food, clothing, everything she needed, with only one thing asked of her in return. The gold of upper class men. It certainly didn't seem like a bad trade off. With nothing else to lose she let herself be taken under the wing of the thiefess, Loreli, and from then on everything was history.

Now though, now one more disaster was added to the many Celeste had already afforded, and this time she had no one to blame but herself. She rounded the last corner, and came to the place where the battle was taking place. As she did, her stomach turned over. It was a scene of complete and utter chaos. Bodies lay everywhere, some of the soldiers and some of her teammates, some lay dead on the hard cobblestone road, and others lay weakened or bleeding, some trying to limp away. The battle was still raging, but they were surrounded. The Cornerian army had called in for more troops when the thieves began to overwhelm them, and now, exhausted and wounded, her comrades had nowhere to go. Janice, Kate, and their leader Loreli, they would all end up dead. _All because of me._ Celeste thought, a lump rising in her throat.

Her allies had warned her against targeting nobles. If only she'd listened, if only. She'd had every opportunity to back down, every option to stop where she was. Her closest friend, Kate, had already managed to charm a small, topaz pendant off of a passing white mage, and Janice, of course was already half way through robbing the entire village blind. All she'd needed was her share, but she couldn't help trying to outdo them. She couldn't help wanting to do something more. It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

Now the battle still raged around them, and Celeste felt her heart sinking. There had to be something to stop them, something to halt the fight. _They're all going to die._ Celeste's heart clenched. _There's no way they'll be able to get through all those men._ Another scream was heard as another one of her comrades, her allies, her friends, was cut to the ground by a nameless, faceless, stony cold soldier. Another young girl full of life wiped away by that of a faceless golem. It had to stop. It had to.

_But how?_

Her mind suddenly rushed back to the two men, the guards who had forced her into this hell. Stephon, and Talon, the guards, who had been looking for a black mage when they captured her, and found it when she had broken free. If there was anything that royals and guards hated more than thieves, it was mages, and in a village of highly flammable structures, a single black mage could mean the death of millions. In this case it could also mean saving the life of her teammates.

"Black mage!" Celeste screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to sound as frantic as possible and get their attention. "There's a black mage in the village! There's a black mage in the village!"

The fighting slowed to a stop as the words were uttered, and a tense silence hung in the air for a moment or two. The soldiers exchanged looks for a second before one man yelled, "Retreat!" and they scattered, leaving the gang of thieves still battered and weak in the ally.

What was left was a devastating sight to see.

Other girls from the gang had joined the brawl while she had been away, so they had numbered to almost thirty or forty. That hadn't been enough to fend off the soldiers, however, and each and every one of them had suffered at least a few crippling blows. Most of them weren't as lucky.

Celeste scanned the remains of the ally that looked now more like a battle field, her heart was pounding hard, her face had gone completely pale, as she gazed upon the devastation, the murder, that had taken place. For a second, she just stood there, frozen in horror, not knowing if she should look for her closest allies amongst the bodies, or if she would regret it when she discovered what had become of them.

 _Ye merciful gods_ Celeste's breath halted in her throat. _Janice,_ _Kate, where are they? By the gods where are they?_ She closed her eyes, entire body trembling, _No please. Anything bu that.. anything..._

"Kate, Loreli, Janice!" Celeste called as she half stumbled through the remains of her gang, trying to cite out the three people she was closest to, and the woman she owed her life to. "Loreli! Kate! Where are you?"

"Celeste?" A voice called from behind her, and though it was written with fatigue and sadness, just the sound of a voice was enough to make her heart leap with joy. "Celeste are you okay?"

Celeste turned to face her comrade, Janice, a dark haired fair skinned young woman with short hair and a tomboyish figure. She was overjoyed to see her friend and ally, but she felt so ashamed of herself for starting and running from the battle she wasn't sure that she would be able to face her.

"Janice I'm... I'm so sorry I.." Celeste began, as she stood there, her heart seeming to contract from the shame and disgrace she felt.

"Celeste!” Janice interrupted. Her short, cropped hair was matted with blood, her face pale. Celeste had never seen the girl quite that pale before, “Oh gods... I thought we lost you too!”

"Lost... too?” Celeste's stomach dropped. Dread once again was starting to spread through her limbs like a cancer.

Janice's eyes filled with tears. She looked away, muted by the terror she'd seen event. She sank down to her knees, putting her head in her hands, and let out a soft sob.

"What?" Celeste breathed, fear gripping her. Janice never cried. Celeste rarely saw any of them cry, but now, everything had changed

“Celeste it's.. it's Kate.” at last Janice turned a tear stained face towards Celeste, her lips still trembling with grief, “It's Kate she's... they killed her... They got so many but they... they killed her. Kate is dead.”

The words pierced through her like a million knives. A horrible, crippling blow that numbed the girl's scenses and threw everything out of balance for those few seconds. " _Kate is dead."_ It couldn't be true. Kate had been so full of life, so happy only hours ago. They had been laughing and talking and everything had been fine. Everything had been almost perfect. As perfect as it ever could have been, and as perfect as it would be. Then those life changing words came, spoken from the mouth of one of her only friends, that her only other friend in the world was gone forever.

"No..." Celeste managed to whisper, but nothing more than that word. She stared at Janice with disbelieving eyes, not being willing to admit that what she had said was true.

Celeste stepped back away from Janice, her heart racing. Janice stepped forward, her eyes suddenly wide with fear. Celeste turned. She couldn't look her in the eyes. It was her fault. All of it was her fault.

“Celeste...” Janice took a step forward, eyes pleading, “Celeste wait-!”

Celeste spun around and ran at that, as fast as she could down the alley again, not caring where she was going or what happened.

Janice turned, starting after her, but her progress was stopped by her wounded body, “Celeste don't! Stop! Please don't go!”

 _I am a murderer._ Celeste thought as bitter tears streamed down her face. _I killed her, it's my fault she's dead so I basically killed her. How could I have been so stupid. Janice is right, it is my fault. All my fault.. all my fault..._

Her thoughts encapsulated her mind as she ran. All of a sudden, she was numb. She felt nothing. She saw nothing. She didn't even see the body appear in the alley before her before she collided with it. She hit the ground hard and felt a sharp pain rush through her right arm like fire. She closed her eyes in pain, and gave a small cry.

"Oh gods!" A voice exclaimed. "I-I didn't see you there, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Celeste tried to prop herself up, but a sharp pain rushed through her arm again and she fell back to the ground. Her whole arm was engulfed in a new sensation of throbbing pain, and she only wished that it would stop.

"G-Gods be damned would it kill you to watch where you're bloody going?" She snapped. One disaster after another. She was mad enough to breathe fire. “Who in the five hells do you think you are to...”

As Celeste finally managed to open an eye to look at who had ran into her, her voice caught in her throat and she could have sworn her heart stopped. A black mage stood there looking on at her with two glowing yellow orbs as eyes, clad in a torn bloodstained robe and with a straw pointed hat atop his head concealing his face. He was standing behind a second man, clad all in red with a matching red hat that had a white feather protruding from it. The man had long white hair, and was standing over her with an expression of worry on his face.

"What's wrong?" The black mage asked, taking a step forward. "Are you alright? You seem pale."

"You.. you're.. a-a..."She stammered, the only two words that could easily describe the thing that stood before her lost. And she stared at him with a look of sheer terror written all over her features. Again she tried to pull herself to her feet, but as she moved a third, equally potent jolt of pain rushed through her arm and forced her to the ground again, at the mercy of the two men.

"S-somebody help!" She finally screamed, and the two men jumped back, exchanging anxious glances. "Th-there's a...a..."

"Sleep!" The trigger word of a spell was uttered from the black mage, who stood looking anxious, with his arms outstretched. The thief girl never got to finish her sentence, for as soon as the word had been uttered, a wave of exhaustion hit her like a flood. Her stomach twisted, nausia washing over her like a wave, and at once the scene began to blur. She could barely see the two men as they began to run past.

 _Magic.._ Celeste thought, her insides twisting, though because of the newly found sensation of exhaustion she couldn't express it. It certainly didn't feel natural, and she'd always known it probably wouldn't, but she'd never had a spell cast on her before, and she hadn't expected it to feel this sickening, as if a cold, clammy hand had reached into her brain and grabbed her consciousness, forcing her from her feet. As her limbs went slack and she finally drifted out of consciousness she silently cursed her pursuers. She cursed Corneria, she cursed the soldiers who had murdered her allies, but most of all, she cursed magic.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So WHAT'LL HAPPEN? WHO KNOWS? OH WAIT, I DO. 
> 
> Next chapter will be out, hopefully in less than a year. Keheh.


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